


Mockingbird

by justine472



Series: Happy Days [4]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Elinor Campbell Lives, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22121071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justine472/pseuds/justine472
Summary: Part 4 of the Happy Days Universe in which Serena is Director of Studies and Bernie Head of Teacher Training at the Holby International English Centre (HIEC) part of Holby University. It will help to have read Part 2 - i dream of love as time runs through my hands-  to get an overview of the plot and character development. This story takes place 2 years  later, in the autumn of 2018, as Bernie returns from closing a 2 year project in Costa Rica, which they won in Part 2. The story mirrors certain events in canon, but there is no Leah. There is angst, the first ripples of unhappiness and misunderstanding between Bernie and Serena as Bernie doubts Serena's fidelity and Serena laments Bernie's poor communication skills and her constant desire to run off -usually to  distant and dangerous places. The couple comes close to a break- up, but certain traumatic events will bring them back together and make them appreciate the strength of their relationship.
Relationships: Alex Dawson/Frieda Petrenko, Henrik Hanssen/Roxanna MacMillan, Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Series: Happy Days [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1378372
Comments: 34
Kudos: 102





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Ruston Kelly's poignant song "Mockingbird" which I've been listening to on repeat all over Christmas!

_Hey pretty little mockingbird_ _  
Keep singing them sad, sad songs  
There’s already rain on my window  
I’m dying when the morning comes  
Flew away in the night with the raven  
Now I’m underneath the willows hanging  
I’m too strung out to be upside down  
Pretty little mockingbird, sing your song_

Bernie Wolfe was unsurprised by the heavy rain and wind when, after a bumpy descent, the plane hit the runway hard, wobbling dangerously as it slowed with a screech of brakes before coming to a halt at its docking point. 

“Bloody weather”, she remarked to her travelling companion, Alex Dawson, as they unfastened their seat belts and stood up to retrieve their hand luggage from the overhead lockers.

“Yeah, after Costa Rica and Mexico, this will take some getting used to”, Alex agreed as she pulled out her iPhone to turn off Airplane mode. Within a few seconds her phone pinged with an incoming message.

“OK Frieda’s here”, she commented as the two women left the aircraft and began the long trek down Heathrow Terminal 5’s many corridors. “What about Serena? Did she answer your message?”

Bernie fumbled with her phone and frowned. The message she had sent to Serena from Madrid, three hours earlier, was still unanswered. She checked Messenger and WhatsApp but no new notifications had come in.

“Maybe she’s busy”, she remarked, unconvinced despite her apparent nonchalance. While they waited for their luggage at the conveyor belt, she called Serena’s mobile. There was no answer, so she tried the landline.

“Hello? Ellie? Hi, this is Bernie, I’m at Heathrow.”

“Hey, Bernie, Mum said you were coming back tomorrow. Did something happen?”

“Yes, we were going to have to stay overnight in Madrid but got switched from Iberia to BA and managed to connect straight through. I sent your Mum several messages from Madrid but she hasn’t answered.”

“Probably just having a good time,” laughed Ellie. “She’s gone out with that woman, what’s her name, Dr. Fanshawe from Linguistics. Maybe she hasn’t looked at her phone.”

Bernie was silent for a moment.

“OK no problems Ellie. Are you staying overnight?”

“Yes, it’s the term break and I’m cat-sitting. Mum said not to wait up, seems she’s gone to a party that might run late.”

“OK, look, don’t worry, when your Mum comes just tell her I arrived early. I have my key so don’t wait up.”

“OK, Bernie, I’m sure she’ll be back soon. See you later.”

“Problems?” asked Alex as they put their cases on a trolley and headed for the exit.

Bernie sighed. “Seems Serena didn't get my messages so she’s out partying. I’ll get a bus or something.”

“Rubbish, the last bus will have gone. Frieda’s here and we’ll give you a lift”, Alex answered.

“But you live in Bath”, protested Bernie.

“Hey, no big deal, we can drop you in Holby. Look-there she is!”

Frieda Petrenko, minus her Goth makeup, but in studded biker jacket and leggings, cracked a huge smile when she saw Alex and they hugged affectionately, murmuring sogoodtoseeyous and imissedyous as Bernie stood awkwardly by.

“Look, babe, Bernie needs a ride. Serena didn’t get her message about arriving tonight instead of tomorrow so she’s on her own”, Alex said as soon as they pulled apart.

“No problem, Bernie, I have my car here”, said Frieda.

“There’s no need to go all the way to Holby, Frieda, just drop me at Bath station,” Bernie said.

“Don’t be ridiculous”, said Frieda, “it’s no problem at all.” And that was that. Bernie followed Alex and Frieda to the car park, the insidious little worry worm starting to niggle inside her brain.

As Frieda opened the car boot an excited barking broke out. Bernie recoiled, but Alex burst out laughing.

“OK, I see why you came to fetch me. This is your way of telling me that you followed through on your idea of going to the Dog Shelter?”

“Not exactly", Frieda said, pulling a great shaggy beast from the back of the car.

“Behave, Mungo”, she admonished, as the dog tried to jump up to lick Alex on the nose.

“Whoa”, Alex said as she stumbled backwards, “Down, boy. IT IS a boy?” looking at Frieda.

“Oh yes, absolutely correct. Rescued from a car in the university car park. The owner had a heart attack and died so I stepped in and took him. He’s so affectionate, I just know you’re going to love him.”

“Right, well, Bernie”, patting Mungo, “ if we put the luggage in the boot, Mungo will have to sit next to you. Is that OK?”

“Sure, of course,” said Bernie, who, having recovered from her surprise, was looking fondly at the dog. 

The journey back to Holby was easy for the first part, where the motorway slip roads near Heathrow were lit, but once they got beyond the main junctions, they were plunged into complete darkness, and the monotonous back and forth of the windscreen wipers exerted a hypnotic effect. Alex kept her hand on Frieda’s leg as the younger woman tried to concentrate on the road, and they chatted intermittently in low voices. In the dark and quiet, with Mungo’s head on her thigh, her hand stroking his soft fur, Bernie wondered again about Serena, and the guilt began to seep in as she remembered how she had left several messages from Serena unanswered during her two weeks in San José on the project review. Her return had been pre-booked, so Serena knew the flight details, and there had not been much for Bernie to communicate. She was working, not on holiday. There were long, meeting-filled and report-writing days and evenings and Bernie was exhausted by the end. Alex had taken leave in September after the 2 year training commitment ended and had travelled with Frieda in Mexico for a month before joining Bernie in San José for the project review, while Frieda had come home. Bernie and Alex had had to attend any number of social and cultural events as part of the farewell process, but these were part of their roles, not for personal pleasure. It was a relief for Bernie to wave goodbye to everyone the previous night and board the plane to Madrid with Alex. In all that time she had only thought that Serena would be waiting for her, and that she would have got her message from Madrid saying she was coming early. She had not spared a thought for what Serena might have been doing in her absence, or whether it would be inconvenient for her to arrive a day early. Now she began to wonder.

As they entered Holby, Bernie gave Frieda instructions to Serena’s house, where she had been living for the past year. It was close to midnight when they pulled up behind a taxi with its door open, idling at the kerb. Something gave Bernie pause and she told Frieda to pull over, stop and switch off the engine. The three of them watched as two middle-aged women, both clearly the worse for wear, emerged unsteadily from the taxi, smoothing down cocktail dresses and stumbling on high heels. Bernie, Alex and Frieda watched in silence as the second woman, who Bernie recognised as Dr. Fleur Fanshawe, a lecturer in Sociolinguistics, followed Serena up the short path to her front door and pushed her drunkenly against the wall where they seemed to join together in a passionate kiss.

"Fuck", said Alex.

"Oh my God", said Frieda. 

“Drive off”, Bernie ordered Frieda, who started the engine immediately.

“But where?” asked Alex.

“I..I don’t know, a hotel, maybe.” Bernie was in shock, trembling, hardly able to believe the evidence of her own eyes.

“Stop”, Alex ordered Frieda as they rounded the corner. She twisted round in her seat.

“Bern, you can’t go to a hotel by yourself, not after having a shock like that. Come back to ours.”

“No, no, really, I’ll be fine”, Bernie mumbled, just wanting to be alone, to let out this sudden crushing pain in her chest. She knew that Frieda had just a small one-bedroom flat, and that Alex had given up her own flat when she went to San José, so the thought of being cooped up with them all night was unbearable. All she wanted was to cry into her own darkness.

“Look, I have Accor points,” Bernie insisted, “take me to the Mercure, that’s fine.”

Alex wanted to protest more, but she was also only too aware that Frieda had come all this way to meet her after a 2 week absence and that their flat was too small to accommodate a loving couple, a grieving friend and a large dog comfortably. She nodded to Frieda and they set off again.

***

Serena Campbell fumbled as she tried to get her key in the lock, and by the time she had managed it, the door was flung open and her frowning daughter was standing on the threshold, arms folded across her chest.

“Mum, you’re not pissed are you?” Elinor asked in a plaintive voice.

“No, of course not, just a little …tipsy..hic!” said Serena, stumbling inside and gratefully kicking off her shoes and heading for the sofa where she promptly collapsed.

“Well you’d better have some black coffee because Bernie will be here in a minute.”

“Bernie? What are you talking about? She’s not due till tomorrow. I’m picking her up at Heathrow at lunchtime.”

“Check your phone, Mum,” said Elinor, rolling her eyes.

Serena groped in her bag for her phone, realising somewhat belatedly that it was still on silent mode from her meeting that afternoon, and that there were several messages and a missed call from Bernie. She read the messages and groaned. Then-

“How do you know anyway?” she asked her daughter.

“Because she called me here”, said Elinor. “At about 9. She’d just landed and said she’d let herself in when she arrived.”

Serena sobered instantly. “But that was more than 3 hours ago. She should be here by now if she got a taxi or a lift.”

“Well, call her, why don’t you?” Elinor yawned. “I’m off to bed, ‘night Mum”, and she turned, picking up Jason, their Burmese cat, and taking him upstairs with her.

Serena hesitated for a second after Elinor had gone, caught between shame at what had just happened outside her door, and panic at what may have happened to her partner. Panic won. But Bernie’s number just rang and went through to voicemail. Serena didn’t know what to say so she hung up, waited five minutes, then rang again. The same thing happened. Where the hell could she be and why was her phone turned off? Could she have run out of battery, Serena wondered, and still be on her way?

Then she remembered that Bernie would be travelling with Alex Dawson and that, in all probability, they might get a ride together. She searched for Alex’ number and called. Alex was polite but she didn’t mince her words.

“She saw you with someone else at the front door, Serena, and then she asked us to take her to a hotel”.

Serena closed her eyes and cut the call. Fucking Fleur Fanshawe! Or the description would be accurate if Fleur had had her way, but Serena was not that stupid. She enjoyed Fleur’s company but she was only too well aware of Fleur’s tendency, when drunk, to try to press an advantage. Tonight she had fought her off at her front door, turning her head to one side when Fleur had tried to kiss her. But what had Bernie seen? Whatever it was, it was enough to hurt her deeply, and so she had fled. Serena felt tears of frustration and remorse well up in her eyes as she stabbed Bernie’s number again. This time, when it went to voicemail she left a message.

“Bernie, I’m so sorry I didn’t get your messages earlier. And I’m so sorry you saw me with Fleur. Really, it was nothing, nothing happened. She tried it on, you know what she’s like, but I pushed her off. Nothing happened, Bernie. Please come home, or call me, I miss you so much…”


	2. Bridging the Gap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie returns home to get Serena's version of what happened, and to try to understand what is happening in her relationship. A crisis is averted. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to finish this chapter with a Mature Interlude, but time ran away with me and now I'm too sleepy. Next chapter, promise!
> 
> Certain events are referred to in this chapter which are more fully described in Part 2 of Happy Days, for example, the first night Bernie and Serena spent in Madrid, and the backstory with Alex. 
> 
> Opening lines from "Mockingbird" by Ruston Kelly.

_Pretty wings, you’re the prettiest thing  
You’re like Parker Posey in a magazine  
With fitted jeans and crop top back in ninety-three  
I wanna be your dressed in black  
Your dark star with the backwards hat  
I’m gonna write a book and put your name on every page  
Every page_

Despite downing three whisky miniatures from the minibar, Bernie slept only in fits and starts, her mind replaying the scene at Serena's front door, still in disbelief, her body clock compromised by jetlag. At 3 am she woke suddenly and, on an impulse, turned on her phone. Three missed calls from Serena and one from Alex. She dialled voicemail- Alex’s message was first.

“ _Bern, I really hope you’re OK. Serena called me and I told her what happened but she doesn’t know which hotel you’re in. Over to you, my friend. Take care and call me later if you need a place to stay. Damn it, call me anyway! We’re here for you, you know.”_

Then Serena’s panicked voice, close to a sob, clearly not sober. Bernie knew to the second when Serena tipped from being hilariously merry to ugly drunk. She had fond memories of the first night they had spent in Madrid during the project bidding process, when Serena had become incoherently amorous in a taxi and Bernie had had to manhandle her up to their hotel room and put her to bed. At that time it had been amusing, and for the first year of their relationship, a rare occurrence, and then only at staff parties or happy gatherings of their little cobbled -together family. In the last year, however, Bernie had begun to suspect that Serena was overindulging more often, and behind her back. She had gained some weight, for one thing, and her skin had lost its freshness. With the familiarity of everyday living, these changes had not been immediately apparent to Bernie, but after her last overseas trip – four days in Croatia, flying back into Bristol, Serena had cried off coming to the airport and when Bernie had got home, she had clearly been hungover.

Bernie lay sleepless in her comfortable hotel bed, the digital clock on the nightstand showing 3.23 am, and cast her mind back to the stunning girl she had kissed in Casablanca more than 30 years ago, an impulsive act leading to a single sexual encounter that had followed her through a 25 year marriage to a man she couldn’t properly love, the birth and growth to adulthood of a charming but wayward son and a responsible, serious daughter, and a career that had taken her to the farthest corners of the world, some would say in an attempt to run away from herself. Finding that girl again, and in her new workplace, and rediscovering the magic of their sexual chemistry had been the greatest gift Bernie had ever imagined for herself, one she often felt she did not deserve. Yet she kept her reservations to herself, totally incapable of resisting the pull of Serena’s flirtatious gaze, her admiration that made Bernie feel ten feet tall, her full, lush body that Bernie never tired of worshipping over and over until Serena begged for a rest. She remembered their last night together, before she left for Costa Rica, how Serena had kept her awake until the small hours, far longer than she wanted or her body needed, using every trick she knew to capture Bernie’s attention and keep her focused on their mutual pleasure.

And yet. The word ‘trick’ triggered the darker thoughts that Bernie rarely allowed to surface. It was almost as if Serena were competing for her attention. She got petulant each time Bernie’s job took her away, to the point that Bernie had started delegating non-essential overseas trips to other colleagues. Once, unable to face another Serena pout, she had gifted Jac Naylor a long weekend in Venice, allowing her to reunite with a handsome Italian postgraduate student she fancied. At first Bernie had been flattered to think that Serena missed her so much that she was upset each time she went away. But by the third or fourth solo trip, she was getting weary of Serena’s reaction. Yet her position as Head of Teacher Training came with the requirement to bid for and manage overseas contracts, skills Bernie had in abundance and no one else could touch, or not, anyway, while Alex Dawson was committed to two years in Costa Rica. Now she was back, Bernie thought she would try to pass more of those overseas jobs to her.

As the clock ticked the hours away, Bernie searched in her mind for other clues as to what might have been going wrong with her relationship. Her starting point was always herself- her assumption that she must have been a less than perfect partner if Serena was even remotely tempted into infidelity. She recognised that Serena was often underconfident about herself, particularly about her body shape, although Bernie had done everything humanly possible to convince her that she loved her as she was and adored her body. Bernie’s total amazement that Serena thought her body superior- with its puckered scars and sharp angles and bony bits- did not allow her to see how she appeared to Serena- a tall, slim, golden goddess capable of attracting men and women alike in hordes. What was most hurtful to Bernie, however, was that Serena would ever fall for the charms of Fleur Fanshawe. Serena and Fleur had known each other prior to Fleur’s tenure at Holby university, and Fleur had never made any secret of her orientation, or that Serena was firmly in her sights. Serena had always laughed it off as a joke, although it was a joke beyond the limits of Bernie’s sense of humour. What could Bernie have done that pushed Serena into the arms of Fleur?

***

On the other side of Holby, Serena was having no more luck than Bernie in sleeping. Eventually she crept downstairs and made herself a pot of roiboos. She shut the kitchen door so as not to wake Elinor or Jason who, though no longer a boisterous kitten, was still a distraction she could do without. Wedged somewhere between intoxication and its after effects, Serena contemplated her current dilemma, desperately seeking a solution. That she loved Bernie to distraction was a given. She just couldn’t get enough of her. She had never been so aroused in her life as when she was with Bernie, starting from the unforgettable one night stand they had had in Casablanca, to the present time, two years and counting into a happy, stable relationship, living and working together, both in rewarding, high level jobs, both at the peak of their careers. She should be her happiest self. But here she was, seeking entertainment with the likes of Fleur Fanshawe and an ever-increasing quantity of Shiraz, trying to quell the niggling anxiety that always lived within her.

All that mattered right now, however, was getting Bernie back. She looked at her watch – 4.30 am, at least 3 more hours before she could reasonably begin trying to call her again. Eventually, Serena felt her eyelids beginning to close, so she went back to bed and fell into a restless sleep.

***

Dr. Berenice Wolfe, with a suitcase full of dirty washing, checked out of the hotel at 6am and called an Uber. She had finally abandoned sleep at 5.30 and had showered, redressing in her travelling clothes from the previous day, apart from the clean knickers she had stuffed into her handbag in anticipation of an overnight transit. She realised that staying any longer in the hotel was only putting off the inevitable confrontation with Serena and that, as today was Sunday, they would have time to try to work things out between them before returning to work. There was a time when Bernie would have run from such a conversation, but although her feet were telling her to move, her heart belonged to Serena, and to their home. She had hoped never to have to change that again in her life, so running simply wasn’t an option.

It was with a sense of trepidation that Bernie let herself silently into the house. The moment she closed the door, Jason appeared, rubbing round her legs and miaowing. His food bowls were empty so she put a handful of dry Whiskas into one of them to keep him occupied. Then she took her suitcase out to the laundry room and, finding a sweatshirt and jogging pants in the ironing basket, stripped, changed and decanted all her clothes into the washing machine, rescuing one or two white shirts to wash later, a habit she had only adopted after moving in with Serena. Then, still dithering, she made a pot of coffee, microwaved milk and carried everything upstairs on a tray. It was coming up to 7am and still dark. Putting the tray carefully on the floor, Bernie lit the lamp on her side of the bed and closed the bedroom door quietly. Serena was asleep, sprawled across the bed, hugging Bernie’s pillow. Bernie felt a sliver of warmth start to melt the cold cage around her heart. In sleep, Serena was adorable, her hair, nowadays a sleek silvery crop, mussed, and her face gently flushed from the heat her body always generated in bed. She was breathing a little raggedly through her mouth, and twitched when the light went on. Bernie held her breath, but then she settled again.

Bernie poured herself a cup of coffee and took a chair, watching and waiting. It took less than ten minutes for Serena to register the smell of coffee and the presence of another person. She opened her eyes slowly, to see Bernie at the foot of the bed.

“I smell coffee,” was all she said, but her eyes were red-rimmed and lacked their usual sparkle. She struggled to a sitting position as Bernie poured coffee for her and carried it over. Then Bernie returned to her chair and kept her eyes on Serena’s, avoiding looking down at her breasts, which were just visible through the cotton nightdress.

“So you came back”, Serena observed, slowly sipping coffee.

“I did. No sense in putting this off. But coming home last night to a drunk Serena with Fleur Fanshawe slobbering all over her was not my idea of a welcome.”

Serena closed her eyes. Bernie could almost hear her head throbbing. She waited, never the best conversationalist, trying to hold her anger and humiliation in check.

“Bernie..I.. I really don’t know what to say except that it must have looked a lot worse than it was. We went to the Linguistics Society Annual dinner, there were about 30 other people. It was a buffet with free flow, you know how that goes. So we had a little too much and ..and there was dancing…”

“Not on the tables this time, I hope”, Bernie put in drily.

“God, no, more like a disco, and not all couples either. It was a good party. So Fleur shared a taxi with me and insisted on seeing me to the door where, unfortunately, she tried to kiss me. But..” fixing Bernie with a firm stare, “you have to believe me, Bernie, I turned my head to avoid kissing her, and pushed her off. I never thought she would pull a number like that, she knows I’m devoted to you, but she was pretty far gone and, well…”

“And you couldn’t have avoided the whole thing by just taking a taxi by yourself?”

Serena looked shocked for a second. “Why would I do that? She’s my colleague, my friend, how could I explain…?”

“Come on, Serena, she’s been making eyes at you ever since she turned up at Holby. And she hates me, I know, even calls me ‘the Werewolf’. I bet she was just waiting for a chance to get into your knickers when I was away.”

“Don’t be ridiculous”, snapped Serena. “Surely you know I would never be interested in Fleur! But what am I to do when you go away all the time? Stay at home and knit?”

“That’s not what I’m saying”, Bernie was dismayed by the turn the conversation was taking. “And please don’t start on about the fact that I was on a trip with Alex. Alex is with Frieda, very much so.”

“Yes, I am aware. But there must be lots of other gorgeous women drooling all over you in these exotic locations?”

“Serena”, protested Bernie. “What are you saying? That I’m unfaithful? That just because I was unfaithful to Marcus with Alex it means I’ll be unfaithful to you?”

“No, no”, Serena tried to dial it down. “I just mean that you could be tempted.”

Bernie put her coffee cup down, her brown eyes shimmering with hurt and distress.

“Serena Wendy Campbell, if you don’t know by now that you’re the only, and I mean _only_ woman on my radar and that nothing on this earth would tempt me away from you, then I think we need to put this relationship on pause….or something.”

Serena was shocked. “On pause? But we talked about getting married.”

“Yes, we did. But is that the right thing to do when there isn’t trust between us?” asked Bernie, holding back her tears. She stood up abruptly, putting her mug down on the tray.

“This whole thing started with me seeing you with someone else, and now you’re accusing _me_ of being unfaithful”, she said quietly.

“No, Bernie, no I’m not accusing you of anything”, Serena said, seriously alarmed. “But when you’re away you just don’t communicate with me- I’m here imagining you there, longing to talk to you, and you send me two or three text messages and that's it. Can you blame me for feeling neglected?”

Bernie turned. “If I don’t always communicate, it’s because there’s nothing to say”, she responded. “I’m working, not having fun, I’m just doing my job.”

“A job you love,” Serena said. “So why don’t you tell me about it, tell me what’s good, what’s not, what’s going on? You leave me to imagine, and worry, when I don’t hear from you.”

Bernie had nothing to say to that so she collected the coffee cups and the tray and headed for the door.

“I’m going to see to the laundry”, she said as she left the room. Serena fell back against the pillows, groaning.

Half an hour later, Serena, showered and dressed, appeared in the kitchen where Bernie was silently putting cat food into a bowl. She moved to the fridge, taking out orange juice, eggs and bacon.

“Scrambled or poached?” she asked in as normal a tone as possible.

“Whatever’s easiest”, Bernie replied, getting the bread out and plugging in the toaster.

When they were finally seated before their scrambled eggs on toast and bacon, Serena put out her hand and held Bernie’s wrist.

“Bernie, I’m sorry,” she said, with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry you had to come home to this…..misunderstanding. Sorry I wasn’t there for you, didn’t see your messages. And sorry you think I’m accusing you of something. Can we just get past this? I love you, you’re the only partner I want, could ever want. Fleur means nothing to me romantically, and, if it upsets you, I’ll stop socialising with her.”

Bernie looked up through her fringe, her eyes softer. “I would never ask you to do that,” she said. “She’s annoying, but it’s up to you to fend her off. I believe you didn’t kiss her, that I didn’t really see what happened and overreacted. If you believe that I don’t go with other women or even look at them or flirt with them when I’m away on business. Better still, why don’t you come with me and see for yourself?”

“You know I can’t do that”, Serena said, stroking her wrist. “HIEC can’t spare both of us at the same time. “

“I know”, Bernie replied looking down, “but when I get one of those four- day jobs, somewhere in Europe, over a weekend…….” She tailed off, now peering at Serena through her fringe.

The wave of tenderness that overcame Serena propelled her towards Bernie’s lips which were waiting oh so expectantly. She reached up a hand to steady herself on Bernie’s neck and leaned in. At this moment the door opened and Elinor appeared, dressed in a sparkly tunic over tight jeans.

“Euw, you two, not what I want to see first thing in the morning! Didn’t you get enough in the bedroom?” she asked as she marched over to the cupboard and pulled down a box of cereal.

Serena reluctantly pulled away, blushing. “Don’t be rude. Bernie’s been away, I’m just happy to see her!”

“Well, you’ve had all night….or were you too blotto to perform, mama dear?”

“Don’t be cheeky”, snapped Serena, recovering herself, as Elinor poured bran flakes into a bowl and added milk.

“Hi Bernie, I didn’t hear you come in last night. Hope you got back not too late.”

“Thanks, Ellie, it was fine”, Bernie said with a small smile.

“So what are your plans for today? “ Serena asked, as they ate their breakfast.

Elinor dumped a tea bag into a mug and sloshed water from the kettle onto it.

“I’m heading out in half an hour”, she said, seizing the mug and cereal bowl and preparing to leave the room. “Liberty wants me to go with her to Cribbs Causeway to buy an outfit for her brother’s wedding.”

“Right”, said Serena, rolling her eyes as Bernie suppressed a giggle. 

Once Elinor had gone and the sounds of the TV could be heard from the living room, Serena leaned back into Bernie and kissed her softly on the lips, tasting the tamarind tang of the Worcester sauce that Bernie always put on her eggs.

“What do you say we finish up here and go back upstairs to finish our conversation?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.


	3. Clarifications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie and Serena make up and spend a happy day together, marred only by a conversation that raises more questions than it answers. The following day, Bernie secures Alex's help in reducing the number of days she will have to spend away from home. Then Bernie bumps into Fleur Fanshawe and gets a different take on the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating jumps a notch at the beginning of the chapter here to merit its 'M', in case anyone doesn't want to read this. 
> 
> "The furry monster" is a reference to Serena's Russian-style hat that she is often seen sporting in the colder winter months.

Following Serena’s shapely rear up the stairs, Bernie reflected that she always found herself incapable of holding onto her anger the moment Serena quirked an eyebrow or undid a button on her blouse. By the time they reached the top stair, Bernie’s heart was hammering -and it wasn’t from the exercise- and she pushed their argument to the back of her mind.

Once inside the bedroom, door securely locked, Bernie hauled her sweatshirt over her head and pulled down her sweatpants. As she straightened up, she caught Serena’s look, suddenly conscious that she was not wearing a bra.

“Stop”, Serena ordered, as Bernie stood in her plain black knickers. “Leave them on”.

She then removed her own top and jeans and moved towards Bernie, who was still standing at the foot of the bed. The ivory lace bra she wore barely concealed her nipples, which poked stiffly through the fabric and Bernie felt her breath catch in her throat and a sharp stab of desire in her core. Serena put both hands on Bernie’s waist and lowered her head to her bare breasts. Knowing how sensitive Bernie was there, she elaborately sucked and rolled a nipple between her teeth, gently nipping, while her other hand moved to squeeze and caress the other breast.

“I see you’re still good at multitasking”, Bernie gasped, squeezing her thighs together, legs beginning to give way as the ripples of pleasure intensified. Serena raised her head and smiled before bestowing the same attention on the other breast and switching hands in the process. Just as Bernie felt her legs could no longer hold her, Serena gently pushed so that Bernie toppled backwards onto the bed, and motioned for her to move up. Serena clambered on and, kneeling, reached around to unfasten her bra. Bernie began to whimper as Serena’s breasts came free, hands moving to cup them, but Serena stayed just beyond her reach.

“Patience, darling”, she said. “This is just for you”, and she began kissing her way down Bernie’s stomach.

Some time later, as Bernie lay panting, with Serena draped over her, planting little kisses on her neck and shoulders, she said “Well, Dr. Campbell, why on earth would I be looking at anyone else when you can do this to me?”

Serena smiled lazily. “My aim is to please”, she said, kissing Bernie tenderly.

Bernie turned her head to look into Serena’s eyes.

“Oh, you do that alright. But it’s hardly fair to leave you wanting”, pulling Serena’s hips over hers so that their bodies fitted together. The wetness on her thigh when she slipped it between Serena’s legs told her everything she needed to know.

“Mm, no lube required”, she murmured as Serena gasped and began rolling her hips, seeking purchase against Bernie’s firm thigh.

“That’s the Bernie effect,” she panted, manoeuvring her own thigh higher into Bernie’s crotch, feeling her response as she gripped Serena’s buttocks and began grinding against her. Together they rocked, movements intensifying and breath getting shorter until Serena moaned “I can’t last much longer”, and Bernie slid her fingers down between their bodies, through slippery wetness, up and over her clit and inside, feeling the tremors of Serena’s orgasm beginning to grip her fingers, while she rode Serena’s thigh harder, needing just that extra pressure to take her over the edge.

When Bernie awoke two hours later, the sun was high in the sky, the rays penetrating the curtains, shafts of warm light dancing over the bed. Serena was snoring gently by her side, one arm flung across Bernie’s middle. Bernie lay in the warmth of the bed, enjoying the sunlight, the peace and the feeling of normality. Barely 12 hours ago, her old fight or flight response had kicked in at what she had interpreted as Serena’s rejection of her and threatened everything they held dear. She also realised, somewhere deep in her consciousness, that the frequent travel was doing neither of them any favours. Bernie had been so accustomed over the years to travelling light, ever since Marcus had taken the children and returned to the UK from war-torn Sri Lanka in protest at what he saw as Bernie’s recklessness and disregard for her own and her family’s safety. From that moment onwards, Bernie had been her own woman. She had no permanent home (unless it was the characterless house near Holby bequeathed to Marcus by his mother, and where she always felt like an intruder), no pets, and she lived out of 2 suitcases in a series of rented apartments, equally home on buses, trains, in airport departure lounges and hotels. All that had changed since she met and fell in love with Serena, even moreso since she had moved into her house, becoming half of a full- time couple with a cat, no less. Now the stakes were higher. Yet Bernie still loved the thrill of travel and the feeling of personal freedom it gave her. In her mind, she saw no conflict between that impulse, which was easily satisfied by her demanding job, and her relationship with Serena. But their earlier conversation had revealed faultlines in the relationship which Bernie felt ill-equipped to address.

Serena came to consciousness slowly, aware of eyes on her.

“You’re staring at me again”, she mumbled, not displeased.

“Can’t help it. That’s my default position”, smiled Bernie tenderly. At this moment her phone beeped with an incoming message, and, recalling her promise to Alex, she knew what it would say.

_“Hope everything’s OK. Call me when you get a chance.”_

“ _Everything’s fine now- misunderstanding. Talk tomorrow_ ”, Bernie texted back, not wanting to break the moment of togetherness with Serena.

“Alex?” asked Serena.

“Yes, just checking for a pulse”, Bernie replied, not elaborating. For once, Serena didn’t pick her up on it but yawned and said

“It looks like a lovely day, how about we go for a country walk?”

Bernie raised her eyebrows teasingly “Are you sure you can keep up with me?”

“Oh, get away with you”, Serena said, poking her in the ribs, “I don't mean conquer the north face of the Eiger- just a ramble over the Quantocks would do me- with a pub stop somewhere for a late Sunday lunch”.

Somewhat inevitably, whenever Serena was involved, the pub stop lasted longer than the walk, but the bracing air and the beauty of the falling leaves and autumnal landscape gave them a hearty appetite for a late roast lunch accompanied by a glass each of red wine.

“You have no idea”, Serena said, her face flushed with good food, sexual satisfaction and wine, “how terrified I was when I thought you might have run away.”

Bernie paused her fork in mid-air for a few seconds, then put it down.

“And you have no idea”, she replied quietly “how terrified I was to think that the woman who is my whole life might have passed me over for someone else.”

“Then I assume we’re quits”, Serena said.

Bernie lingered over her next few mouthfuls as she thought of how to express what she wanted to say next.

“Is this where you ask me to revisit the idea of getting married?”, asked Bernie.

Serena smiled. “Would you like me to?”

Bernie put her knife and fork down and looked up. Serena was taken aback by the pain in her partner’s eyes.

“The answer to that is both yes and not yet”, Bernie said, toying with the edge of her napkin. “Yes, there’s no one else I want to be with for what I hope is the rest of my life. But I think we have some rough edges to smooth out first.”

Serena thought for a moment then she said. “What specifically would you describe as ‘rough edges’?”

Bernie gritted her teeth then she took the plunge. “Well, if I’m going to do this job, there will always be some travelling. And I don’t mind that. I can try to pass some jobs to Alex now, but the success of HIEC’s teacher training programme depends on me being mobile. You make it clear, Serena, that you don’t like me being away from you. So we need to find a solution that satisfies both of us as well as the demands of the job.”

Serena sighed. “It’s not just the being away. I can live with a certain amount for short periods, but it’s the lack of communication. I need to know where you are, that you’re OK, that you still love me…I’m insecure…”

“Are you still banging on about me being…..what was your word……. _tempted_?” Bernie asked incredulously, her cheeks colouring. “After all we’ve just been through? Are you saying you don’t trust me?”

“No, Bernie, no. Oh it’s so hard to explain. My ex cheated on me, repeatedly, over many years. It was the most humiliating, soul-destroying experience I’ve ever had.”

“I’m NOT Edward”, Bernie interjected, a little more forcefully than she had intended to.

At this point, a waitress passed by and asked “Is everything alright here? Would you like the dessert menu?”

“Yes, please”, Serena replied, and, holding out her empty wine glass, she said “and I’ll have another of these, please,” remembering that it was Bernie who was driving.

Bernie watched silently but said nothing as Serena continued “I know you’re not remotely like Edward, but my insecurity complex just makes me anxious all the time. When you’re here, it’s fine. But when you’re away, my self-doubt kicks in. Add to that the lack of communication, and I …well, I., I guess I’m sounding somewhat paranoid.”

The waitress returned with the new glass, and Serena took a sip. Bernie sat back in her chair and observed her for a moment.

“I’m not sure I know how to persuade you that I love you – more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life, and that I’m faithful even when I’m away”, she said. “I get that Edward made you feel bad, but that was years ago. We’ve been together now for two years and I haven’t so much as looked at another woman. I’m sorry I’m such a rubbish communicator, and I promise to try harder. I miss you, too, which is why sometimes I don’t call you, it just makes me feel worse, then it’s more difficult to do my job.”

“Well, let’s make some rules, then,” Serena suggested, lifting the wine glass again, which was now one third empty.

Bernie frowned thoughtfully, how could she approach this? “Hmm rules. Yes, OK, it’s a good idea. So why we’re on that subject, don’t you think, Serena, that maybe the amount you drink, especially when I’m away, might also be increasing your anxiety?”

Serena’s eyes opened very wide. “Are suggesting that I have a drinking problem?” she asked with a hint of coldness in her voice.

Bernie stood her ground. “I think you use it as a crutch, yes, and that creates its own problem.”

Serena immediately felt her anxiety ratchet up several notches and she put the glass down. Implicit in Bernie’s words was the notion that she might be on the road to alcoholism, and Serena was not ready by any means to face up to that possibility.

“Well, I can assure you that I have it well under control,” she retorted. “And it has nothing to do with my anxiety about you not communicating”.

Bernie lifted her hands, unwilling to get into a fight in a public place. “OK, if you say so.”

Serena looked at her in dismay. “Are we arguing?” she asked, all belligerence now gone.

“No, Serena, we’re trying to have a frank discussion here. But maybe now is not the right time. Let’s go.”

Serena had been eyeing the tiramisu, but seeing that Bernie was ready to leave, she put the menu down. Bernie was already on her feet, pulling her leather jacket on and getting her wallet out, so Serena got up, a little unsteadily, cheeks red, and gathered her own jacket and her handbag, downing the remains of the wine in her glass while Bernie was paying for it at the bar, then following her out to the car park. They had left their own car a mile or so away, so they set off to walk back. Serena caught up with Bernie and touched her arm. Bernie instantly hooked Serena’s arm into hers and reached over to kiss the top of her head.

“Soon be time to get the furry monster out of the mothballs”, she said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. 

***

Alex leaned against the wall on the roof of HIEC and placed one foot back against it.

“So, do you really think that Fleur Fanshawe would have tried to force Serena to kiss her against her will?”

Bernie shrugged. “Who knows what she might do if she’s drunk enough. And when Serena’s drunk she’s all over the place. Flirts with everyone. Fleur could have misread it.”

“Right, well, anyway, hope that’s all over with now.”

Bernie peered up through her fringe. “It raised a few other issues. It’s the travelling that’s really bugging her. Me being away so often.”

“Mm. Can’t do much about that short of changing your job, eh? But I know you, Bern, sooner or later you get itchy feet,” she chuckled.

“That may have been at one time, but in the past two years I’ve settled down. I can’t pretend I don’t like the travelling, Al, I do, but I love Serena, I want to give this a go. Maybe even get married.”

“Well, look…when’s my next overseas assignment?”

“Not for at least 6 months. We’re about to bid on a new range of projects. And that’s what I was going to ask you. If we could maybe double up on some of these shorter visits? Take turns to go out and do the assessments, audits and the rest. Then I could spend more time at home and ….”

“I get it Bern. Don’t worry. I’m always happy to jump on a plane for a few days.”

“Won’t Frieda mind?”

“No way! She’ll either come with me or find something to occupy herself. She’s not the insecure or jealous type, thank God”.

Bernie sighed ruefully. “Well, I wouldn’t have said that about Serena either, but it seems we need to meet in the middle on this, so I’m grateful, Al. It means a lot.”

“For you, Bern, anything”, Alex winked and patted Bernie on the shoulder as she made to go back downstairs.

Bernie lingered for a few more minutes, wishing she still smoked, then, seeing she had no classes for another hour, decided to head to Pulses for a caffeine fix. The lift stopped on the way down at the second floor, and a woman got in. As the doors closed again Bernie became suddenly aware that the woman was Fleur Fanshawe. She gave a little jolt.

“Ah, the Werewolf”, she said, to Bernie’s annoyance. “Just the woman I was looking for.”

“Oh?” is all Bernie could manage as the lift reached the ground floor.

“Yes, look, let me buy you a coffee. I owe you an apology.”

Bernie followed her into the café where they joined the queue. “Actually I believe it’s Serena to whom you owe the apology”, she said.

Fleur turned to look up at her (being considerably shorter). “Well, Serena knows me very well, and I did apologise to her. We’d both had far too much vino collapso to be sensible. But giving you a display like that- must have been a bit of a shock.”

Bernie tried to process this. “How do you know I saw you?” she asked, her face closed, expressionless.

“When I went back to the taxi, I had a look around and then I saw three people in a parked car. The moon was bright and I clearly saw Alex Dawson in the front, and a flash of blonde hair between her and the driver, leaning forward. Serena had said you and Alex were coming back the next day, but I put two and two together …and Serena confirmed it.”

“Right”, was all Bernie could manage.

“You know”, Fleur leaned forward conspiratorially, forcing Bernie to bend to her level to hear what she was saying, “you don’t leave a woman like Serena Campbell alone for extended periods of time. Know what I’m saying?”

Bernie straightened up immediately. “No. Just what _are_ you saying?” she asked frostily.

“Well, a gal like Serena needs nurturing, lots of TLC, …or her attention might start to wander,” Fleur said cheekily. Inside Bernie was furious but she kept herself in check.

“I’ll have you know, Fanshawe, that Serena and I have been together for over two years, and in that time her attention has not, as you suggested, wandered. And neither has mine. We’re two professional women with demanding jobs, we can’t be all over each other all the time. And my suggestion is that you take your snide remarks and out of control drunken behaviour elsewhere.”

“Oh, I see, hostile are we?”

“Well can you blame me when the minute my back is turned you try to snog my partner in the hope she’ll be too pissed to resist? That’s sexual harassment.”

They had reached the front of the queue, so Fleur bought the coffees and, without consulting Bernie, took them outside. Bernie could only follow. 

“Actually, Wolfe, you’re correct. It _would_ be sexual harassment if I had been cheeky enough to try it on. But that’s not what happened. I was concerned about how drunk she was. I mean we were both well over the limit, but she was in a worse state than me at that point. And when we left, there were at least three guys at that party making serious moves on her. I got her out, like a good friend. And while what you saw looked like a passionate embrace, in fact it wasn’t. I had to hold her up against the wall while she looked for her keys. She thought I was trying to kiss her and she fought me off. So something good came out of that misunderstanding- good for you, I mean. Serena never for one second would have let me kiss her, no matter how pissed she was. Not sure about the sleazebags from Linguistics, though, if she’d stayed any longer. If she’d got past the point of being able to consent, if you take my meaning”.

Bernie didn’t know what to say.

“Not that I didn’t _want_ to kiss her, I hope you understand. But I’m far too much of a gentleman to force myself on anyone.”

Bernie finally found her voice, and, choking down her anger, she said “You know what Fanshawe? I should be very careful if I were you. I was in Afghanistan working with the military and I know at least thirteen ways to kill you with my bare hands.”

She could feel the blood rushing to her head as she made this ridiculous pronouncement ( _God, what was she thinking?)_ , so she quickly drained her coffee cup and screwed it up, to do something with the rage shooting into her hands.

Fleur had raised her eyebrows in astonishment, but she didn’t laugh. “I’ve no doubt that’s true”, she said soberly. “But you’re the one who should watch her back. Serena needs help, in my humble opinion. She idolises the ground you walk on- can’t think why- but you’re clearly not answering her needs- and I don't mean sexual needs. I’ve no doubt you’re as outstanding in that department as you are in your job. You’re just not seeing what’s in front of you. So I’d pay her a bit more attention if I were you,” and she turned and walked away with a little wave.

 _Now what the hell am I supposed do?_ thought Bernie.


	4. On The Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie tries to appease Serena by paying more attention to her and sending Alex on the next overseas assignment. However, when a major opportunity comes up in Africa, Bernie has to go. Despite her fears, Serena is placated by Hanssen, who agrees that Roxanna should accompany Bernie. The trip appears to be going well, when Serena suddenly gets a call from Hanssen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's taken time to get back into this so I hope you're still reading!
> 
> There are references here to Part 1 of Happy Days, "The Way We Were", which covers Bernie's adventures in Portugal, where she met both Jac Naylor and Alex Dawson. 
> 
> We also see the appearance of Mo Effanga, for the first time in this universe. The name Effanga originates in Nigeria, so it seemed natural for Mo to be both a former HIEC staff member and Holby University's current agent in Lagos. In this story Mo adopted her husband's name for practical reasons when moving to Nigeria.

Bernie pondered for over a week on what Fleur had said to her and, once the red mist of outrage at Fleur’s audacity had burned off, she had to concede that there was something there. Serena definitely needed help of some sort- the drinking, which Bernie noticed had tapered off dramatically since she had been home, was but a symptom of the underlying insecurity that seemed to inhabit her. Bernie had always assumed that once she and Serena had got together, and especially since they started living together, Serena would feel secure and loved, in a long-term and stable relationship. Yet Fleur’s warning had been like a wake-up call for Bernie that she had taken too much for granted and needed to try harder.

She turned a Friday meeting in London into a long weekend by having Serena join her in the evening and inviting their three children to meet up with them on the Saturday. Charlotte couldn’t leave Southampton where she was revising for her law exams, but Cameron, now an F2 doctor at St. George’s, and Elinor, on an MA in Journalism course at Goldsmiths, arrived together and took their mothers to a stand-up comedy show and then dinner.

“I haven’t had so much fun in ages”, Serena sighed, still wiping tears of laughter from her eyes as they discussed the performance over a Mexican supper in Covent Garden. By Sunday afternoon, Bernie felt easier, although she saved the best news for their train journey home.

“Um.. Serena, did you know that HIEC has won a six week contract at the University of Sarajevo?”

“Six weeks….” Serena looked up sharply, her face suddenly draining of colour. Bernie was smiling. “Yes, and what’s fantastic is that I can send Frieda with Alex- some of the training is in rural school districts, so when Frieda put on her CV that she was a Ukrainian native speaker with some knowledge of Serbo-Croat, they snapped her up.”

Serena’s face cleared. “That’s great, I’m so happy that since they got rid of Guy Self, the Linguistics Department has been more willing to share expertise.”

“Yes, and more importantly, it means I don’t have to go”, Bernie couldn't resist adding. 

Serena looked uncomfortable. “Does that bother you though? Did you want to go?”

“What? And leave the love of my life and our leafy detached for six whole weeks to live in an uncomfortable graduate student residence on my own? Certainly not,” she smiled.

“Actually, Serena, I am really relieved that Alex is back and can take these jobs because I need to save my energies for the really important ones, the ones that keep HIEC up there with the big boys.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Serena said, taking Bernie’s hand and stroking the knuckles.

**_Four days later_ **

“Northern Nigeria? Are you stark raving mad?”

Bernie swallowed her impatience and tried to keep her face neutral.

“They have the same right as anyone else to request a project evaluation specialist.”

“So they do, but that doesn’t mean YOU have to be the one to volunteer.”

“Serena, they’re paying three times the normal fee for this, and we’re their first choice. We don’t even have to bid. You know HIEC needs the cash. It’s only ten days, for God’s sake.”

Serena’s mouth was set in a firm line. “Ten days in which you could be kidnapped, murdered, raped and left for dead ….”

“Please give me some credit, Serena. I’ve been in dangerous situations before and I know how to take care of myself. Besides, they’ve promised close protection at all times.”

Serena put her hands on her hips and prepared to deliver a rant…..then, remembering how ranting had only ever driven Bernie away, she held herself in check and tried to appeal to her softer nature.

“Bernie, you’ve just got back from the Costa Rica project, this is too soon to go off on another long distance job. Can you please find someone else to do this?”

“There is no one else”, Bernie explained patiently. “Alex and Frieda are on assignment. And this is a massive boost for HIEC if we can do this well.”

“Then I want to speak to Hanssen, I’m taking this to a higher level. Northern Nigeria is way too dangerous,”, Serena said, looking annoyed and perplexed. Her mouth was pursed slightly and Bernie had a sudden urge to kiss her to unpurse those lips, but she quickly suppressed the urge, knowing it could make things worse rather than better.

Henrik Hanssen sat at his desk twirling a pencil between his fingers, his lips as pursed as Serena’s had been earlier.

“I do understand your concern, Serena, but we can’t always choose where we get the best jobs. There is a British teacher training project in four cities in Northern Nigeria and Bernie will be in Kano, which is probably safer than Lagos. Boko Haram have been driven out of the Kano area and Bernie will be going nowhere near Borno state, where they are based. She will also be accompanied at all times by security personnel, and she will be on an enclosed campus most of the time, or driven to and from her hotel. It’s 10 days, that’s all. She’ll be with the other project personnel, British, and they’ve been there for over 2 years now, without incident.”

“Henrik, why don’t you help Serena get the bigger picture?” asked Bernie quietly.

Hanssen looked at her for a moment then picked up his desk phone and asked someone to come in. When the door opened, Serena was surprised to see Roxanna Macmillan, the Head of International Recruitment, of whom Hanssen was said to be extremely fond. Whether this was reciprocated Serena had never managed to determine, but clearly there was some sort of bond.

“Rox, Serena is very worried about us sending Bernie to Kano. Can you give her some reassurance, you’ve been to Nigeria several times?”

Roxanna smiled. “Well, Serena, you’ve been with me in Asia, so you know my job has a very wide remit. Before I was promoted to Department Head and got to cover south-east and central Asia, I had West Africa, Pakistan and India. Not an easy gig at all. In fact the place I most hated going to was Pakistan. But Nigeria, I loved it. Yes, I know what people say, but we were always well protected and British Universities are so popular there that I had my pick of the best students. I wouldn’t hesitate to go back, really. And it’s a great chance for Bernie to get some more Africa experience. You’ve been before, haven’t you?”

Bernie nodded. “I did VSO in Sudan, and a stint in southern Morocco, but that was 30 years ago. I’m new to West Africa.”

Roxanna went and leant against the side of Hanssen’s desk. With her bleached blond quiff, Peter Pan figure and tweed mini skirt over black leggings, she resembled a mischievous pixie more than a mature woman whose job took her all over the world.

“Henrik, I haven’t told you yet, but our agent in Lagos, Mo Effanga-Thompson, has been approached by an agent in Kano to help get some recruitment going in the north. She’d like me to go, so if it makes Serena feel any better, Bernie and I could go together. I still have a valid visa. Bernie, if your passport has 6 months or more left on it you can get a visa on arrival.”

Bernie shot Roxanna a grateful look, nodding to confirm that her passport was still good, and waited for Serena’s reaction. Henrik was the first to respond.

“That would certainly make matters simpler if we had the two of you there. You could look out for each other.”

“Yes, I suppose”, Serena agreed, having resigned herself to losing Bernie for ten days. A couple of years ago, Bernie and Serena had worked with Roxanna in Thailand and Vietnam and Serena had been impressed with her calm efficiency and her large network of contacts.

“Well, that’s settled, then”, Roxanna smiled. “I’ll book both of us on flights to Lagos for next week and Mo will organise the transport north. Get a yellow fever shot, Bernie, and check your hepatitis B is still up to date.”

***

Mo Effanga-Thompson met Bernie and Roxanna at Murtala Muhammed International Airport with her driver and her personal SUV.

“Rox”, she laughed, enveloping the much slighter woman in a bearhug. “Careful, Mo”, laughed Roxanna, “I don’t want any broken ribs”.

“Very funny”, Mo said, in an unmistakable London accent, as she turned to greet Roxanna’s companion. “And you must be Bernie.”

“Bernie Wolfe”, said Bernie briskly, somewhat taken aback when she was treated to the same enthusiastic embrace.

“So you’re Serena’s partner, right?” Mo asked.

“Er..yes..do you know her?”

“Ha, funny one. I worked at HIEC for a couple of years while I was still in the UK. So she was my boss, technically,” she winked, “although Jac Naylor was the one on my back the whole time.”

Bernie let out a honk, which set off both Mo and Roxanna, as they pushed the luggage trolleys to the exit. 

“My family moved to London when I was a kid”, Mo explained, “but my husband, Derwood, is a professor of obstetrics and he got offered this gig here, so we came back two years ago and I opened my company with one of the Lagos cousins.”

She pressed a key on her phone to summon the driver and then they were away.

“OK ladies, close all windows, lock doors, that’s how we do it here. Perfectly safe as long as we observe basic precautions,” Mo said as the car pulled away from the airport.

***

Somewhat mollified by the fact that Bernie would not be travelling alone, and that she knew the women were staying with Mo in her and Derwood's villa on the campus of the Medical University in Ikeja, some kilometres from Lagos, Serena nevertheless felt anxious all day after Bernie had departed with Roxanna. 

“For God’s sake, Mum”, said Elinor, who was spending the weekend at home. “She’s coming back in ten days’ time – what’s the big deal?”

Serena didn’t answer. She couldn’t explain it herself. She had not felt this uncomfortable before, not even when Bernie and the team had left for Costa Rica, and then her unease appeared to have been justified by the fact that the plane had been delayed by severe turbulence, during which Bernie had sustained a minor injury.

Serena was relieved when Bernie Face-Timed after dinner, with Roxanna, Mo and Derwood appearing and waving.

“Mo’s just fine”, Jac Naylor had reassured Serena that morning as she had seen her gazing distractedly into her coffee cup, the frown lines deep on her face, “She may look like a giant cuddly party animal, but she’s a responsible, professional woman. She’d never do anything to put Bernie in danger. She has a young son of her own now to take care of as well.”

Bernie looked happy, she reported that Derwood was a fantastic cook, and she held up her bottle of Nigerian beer in a toast to Serena. Mo also brought the couple’s son, Hector, to wave at Serena.

Which was all very well, but the next day, Roxanna and Bernie were flying to Kano with Mo, and then Bernie would go and join her project. Serena’s stomach tightened at the thought.

The HIEC staff were tiptoeing around Serena all week, constantly aware that she was worried about her partner. Jac took over some of Bernie’s paperwork and pulled in Xavier Duval to teach a couple of Bernie’s methodology classes. Ric acted as guard dog, making sure that Serena was not bothered by any minor issues which could be dealt with by him and Jasmine.

“Though why she’s making such a big fuss is beyond me”, Jac said, during lunch one day in the staff room.

“Come on, Jac,” Dom put in, “I totally get it. She’s got this fairly new partnership going, best thing in her life, and Bernie’s always running off- usually to less than salubrious places.”

Jac eyed him with a curling lip. “You clearly don’t know much about the Wolfe. I’ve been with her in few dodgy situations and believe me, there’s no one you’d rather have on your side. She’s as hard as nails and totally cool in a crisis. Whereas Serena, for heaven’s sake, would crumble if they didn’t have her brand of Shiraz!”

“Been with her in a few,” he made air quotes “ ’dodgy situations’, have you? Oh do tell”. Dom sat back, arms folded while Morven tittered and the others looked surprised. Even more astonishing was the fact that Jac blushed.

“I mean, we used to work together, in Portugal”, she began.

“Oh, Portugal – who else has worked there?” asked Dom, while other hands went up.

“Yeah, not really what I’d call ‘dodgy’, Jac. Pretty tame, in fact. Whereas Afghanistan, whoa!”

This provocation seemed to push Jac to make a decision. “Bernie delivered Emma on the floor of a hotel bathroom in Lisbon, no doctors in sight”, she said in a hard voice.

This announcement was greeted with a chorus of “Wows”, and a barrage of questions. Despite her usual reticence about her private life, Jac found herself explaining the circumstances- going into labour at a conference, Jonny - Emma’s father- being in another city, Bernie arriving as Jac accidentally locked herself in the bathroom. Then Bernie and Alex Dawson breaking the door down, and Bernie taking over delivery of Emma before the midwife arrived.

“She was super cool,” Jac said. “In fact, if she hadn’t been there, it could have been a disaster.”

No one needed an excuse to hero worship Bernie Wolfe, so the conversation moved away from Serena and onto Bernie in Costa Rica, her leadership of their project and her general amazingness.

“She’s really hot, too, for a woman over fifty”, Duval said, at which all the women and Dom shouted “Shut up, Zav!”

Then Morven said “I don’t think Serena is as much of a prima donna as you all seem to think. It’s just that her position doesn’t give her much of an opportunity for heroics. But look at how she and Bernie hunted down Tristan Wood in Thailand and Vietnam the year before last. She’s a great actress, that’s what helped them succeed, and once she's on the hunt, nothing will stop her.”

No one had heard Ric come into the room.

“Quite right,” he interposed. “And the reason that Bernie and Serena are such a great team is that their skills complement each other. No one can touch the pair of them when they bid for projects.”

Serena did not hear this conversation, but even if she had, she might not have been in a positive enough place to recognise the truth of Ric’s words. She got through the first week with a stone in her belly, just waiting every day for Bernie to Face Time, which she did, as she had promised, every day between 8 and 9 pm, to fill Serena in on the day and what she had done. On the sixth day, she told Serena that she and Roxanna were travelling to Kaduna by motor convoy the following morning. Bernie, to continue her project evaluation work and Roxanna to interview students lined up by the agent in Kano that Mo had been working with.

Serena waited anxiously all day for news of their arrival in Kaduna, but when 8pm came, it wasn’t Bernie who called, but Hanssen.

“Serena, I’m afraid we have a bit of a situation in Kaduna”, he said. "Stay calm and I'll be with you in fifteen minutes."


	5. Impasse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena learns more about Bernie and Roxanna's situation in Nigeria. They are safe but have fallen foul of the local police chief. Serena and Hanssen call the project leader to get an update and Serena meets an old familiar face. Back in Lagos, Mo and Derwood are looking for strings to pull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps I should say at this point that I have never been to Nigeria, but lots of reading and an overactive imagination have been called upon to compensate. So from this point on I'll just ask you to suspend all disbelief and go with the flow ! Aside from Holby characters, which belong to the BBC, no other character in this story is based on any real individual. 
> 
> Oh and apologies to any Sacha fans out there. I just needed a fall guy and he fitted the bill.For newcomers to this universe, Sacha was Bernie's predecessor as Head of Teacher Training at HIEC. He had a nervous breakdown and was hospitalised when Bernie came on the scene. That was two and a half years ago.

Tough though Bernie was, even she had been the tiniest bit apprehensive about Northern Nigeria. The UK and other western government websites advised against all but essential travel to Kano and Kaduna. She had casually mentioned this to Roxanna on the flight out, and had been reassured.

“Well, western governments are notoriously squeamish about extracting their nationals from tricky situations such as kidnapping, especially where they have no real clout on the ground. It’s more of an insurance policy than anything else. But you have to look beyond that. I mean, what’s the population of Nigeria? 200 million, something like that. And, yes, there’s crime, there are kidnappings, rapes and murders, but Nigeria gets around 2 million visitors per year, and a good proportion of those are western business people and tourists. Most people visit safely and leave. Some are not so lucky. But if you take the right precautions and stay away from known trouble zones, the chances of anything happening are much lower. Look at those teacher trainers on that project – they’ve been fine. They’re well protected, yes, but they’ve also integrated to some extent with the local population and so they’ve been left alone.”

Roxanna had put down her magazine and was looking at Bernie candidly, as if to assess her state of mind. Bernie smiled.

“Between you and me, I relish a challenge, but I promised Serena I’d be careful.”

“Ah, yes, I understand. Look, Bernie, I can’t say that this is totally without risk, but we’ve taken all the necessary precautions. This is why the Nigerians are paying so much for you. They know people are afraid to come. But if no one comes, the bad guys win. So we get on with it.”

The four days they had spent in Kano so far had been delightful. Bernie and Roxanna were in a clean, comfortable old hotel close to the historic part of the city, and every morning the project vehicle came to collect Bernie, and a specially hired car and driver collected Mo and Roxanna who went off to visit agents and to interview prospective students. On the fourth night, Mo told them that she had to fly back to Lagos the following morning, but that Roxana could stay to finish the trip with Bernie, and that she would give her a list of agents to visit in Kaduna.

The teacher training project had offered transport to Kaduna on one of their regular runs. They had a seven-seater armoured vehicle and always sent an extra local staff member with the driver for protection. Bernie was happy to accept their offer, and Roxana concurred. Two trainers transferring to the Kaduna site would also be on board and had done the 4 hour journey several times before.

In the morning they said their goodbyes to Mo over breakfast and checked out of their hotel. The project vehicle arrived at ten minutes past 8, and by 8.30 they were on the outskirts of Kano heading south-west.

***

Serena’s mind went into crash mode after Hanssen’s phone call. Before the call, she had been imagining all the terrible things that could happen to Bernie in Nigeria, but on hearing that there was a real problem, she froze. She tried to busy herself making tea, but the kettle boiled and she ignored it, continuing to stare blankly out of the window until Hanssen rang the doorbell. Serena let him in and ushered him into the lounge. Before she could speak, Hanssen said.

“I came to see you myself, Serena, because it needs a little explanation. Firstly, Bernie and Roxanna are not in any danger. They are perfectly safe in the hotel in Kaduna, but they have been placed under house arrest and had their phones confiscated and internet access cut off.”

“What the hell is going on, Henrik?” Serena snapped, feeling her rage at the incompetence of whoever failed to prevent this from happening burst to the surface. 

“I gather it’s some sort of misunderstanding, and I’m confident we can get it sorted fairly soon.” Hanssen tried to sound soothing. It didn’t work and he knew it, so he ploughed gamely on.“I’ve got a Face Time connection in a few minutes with the project leader in Kano. He’s spoken to one of the trainers travelling with Rox and Bernie and can tell us more.”

“Who’s the project leader?” Serena asked sharply.

“Er..” Hanssen’s cheeks went a little pink. “Sacha Levy. Remember him?”

“Sacha Levy? OUR former Sacha Levy?” she asked, incredulous.

“Er, yes, it appears he applied for private sector work after recovering from his nervous breakdown”, Hanssen replied.

“But he’s a …… a… total pussycat”, spluttered Serena. “How can he be head of a project in a dangerous area like that? And why didn't Bernie tell me he was there?"

"Presumably to avoid this very reaction of yours," Hanssen answered sharply. "Now, Sacha’s a friend of mine, don’t talk about him like that. He’s an excellent trainer.”

“That’s as maybe”, Serena snapped back. “But is he an accomplished diplomat or negotiator or whatever it is we need to get Bernie and Roxanna out of there?”

“I suggest you listen to what he has to say before you make any judgement,” Hanssen replied smoothly. "Ah, here we go,” brandishing an iPad emitting a ringing tone. He placed the iPad on the coffee table and touched the green button. The screen opened to show a large, dishevelled-looking man in a loud patterned shirt seated behind a desk.

“Henrik”, he said. “And Serena. Good evening. First, just let me say how terribly …..”

“OK Sacha, get on with it. What on earth happened to Bernie and Roxanna?” Serena said, sitting back, arms folded, mouth in a firm line.

“Well, they left this morning as planned with two of our trainers. Everyone, including the driver and the guy riding shotg...., sorry, I mean, the staff member, had done the journey before. They had the ID of the two project trainers, the letter from the project authorising the four of them to go on project business to the site in Kaduna and the support letter from the Ministry of Education in Abuja. They also had copies of Bernie’s and Roxanna’s passports showing their entry stamps, and copies of the hotel reservations.”

“Go on”, said Hanssen.

“Well, it seemed they were stopped at a police roadblock on the way into Kaduna and asked for their papers and ID. The police saw the project name and address of the vehicle and asked ..asked why they were bringing non-project personnel into Kaduna. They took them to the..um police station and er..put Bernie and Roxanna into a cell.”

A sob escaped Serena’s lips. Sacha was trying to hold it together but his narrative was starting to break down.

“Surely,” interjected Hanssen, “they had some sort of authorisation for the visit to Kaduna?”

Sacha looked wretched. “Well, that’s the thing actually, Henrik. We thought it was all covered. Every piece of paper we could muster was in that folder. We didn’t think another authorisation was necessary. After all, our people do that journey every week and nothing has ever happened before. “

“But Bernie and Roxanna are not members of your project,” Serena pointed out. “Surely you realised they would need some other authorisation to move from Kano to Kaduna province?”

Sacha was squirming “Well, we..um..well….no, actually, we didn’t. We thought the Ministry of Education support letter would cover it.”

There was a silence at this admission. To Hanssen’s surprise, Serena did not erupt, as he had expected.

“So what do we do?” she asked.

**

In Lagos, Mo was horrified to hear what had happened. The Project Curriculum Adviser, Ange Goddard, who had been travelling in the same car, had managed to call her. Roxanna, as thorough as ever, had made sure that there were 2 copies of all their paperwork, and when it had become clear that the police would not let her and Bernie go with the others, she had pushed the folder into Ange’s lap and given her Mo’s name, which was on a list of contacts. Mo’s first thought was to fly up to Kaduna and sort those police out, but Derwood held her back.

“Think for a minute, Mo,” he pleaded. It’s not just about me and Hector, I mean, I’d go up there with you if I thought it would help, but it won’t. It’s a whole different culture as well- Hausa speaking, Muslim.... You’re a Yoruba woman from Lagos, worse, a British Nigerian, they’re not going to listen to you. And besides, you can’t represent the British Consulate or the University. You’re just an agent. You’d only make it worse for Rox and Bernie, as well as yourself, by charging in like that.”

Mo reluctantly accepted this as a fact. Then Derwood had an idea.

“Hey, you know that bloke Charlie I play tennis with on Wednesdays? He works for the Consulate. Let me give him a bell. He’ll surely know what to do.”

So Derwood rang Charlie, who promised to call the Consul in Kano and find out what they were doing to get Bernie and Roxanna released.

“He can’t tell us anything until the morning”, Derwood reported glumly.

While this was going on, Mo, in a fit of impatience, had called Ange back in Kaduna to find out what was happening on the ground. When she hung up she looked relieved.

“Well I’m glad someone has some sense,” she said. “Ange got the project driver to go with her and argue for them to let Bernie and Roxanna at least go to the hotel and stay there under house arrest until the matter could be resolved.”

“They agreed?” Derwood was incredulous.

“They did. Provided they share a room, and there’s a guard to make sure they don’t try to go out. That Ange’s Scottish charm must have worked on them.”

“You’d better call Serena, to update her,” Derwood said. “She must be in a right old state. I know I would be if it was you in a police cell”.

***

By the time Hanssen left her house, Serena had regained her composure. Cursing Sacha Levy for his oversight, or whatever it was, she started applying her smart business brain to the situation. She had had a conversation with Mo, and had come to the same conclusion as her, that Ange had clearly got some sort of leverage over the police to get them to release Bernie and Roxanna to the hotel.

Then there was the thing no one wanted to talk about yet. There had been no mention of money so far, but in Serena’s experience, money was never far from the source of a problem or its solution. She had seen no point in raising this with Hanssen, knowing full well that the university would not consider paying a bunch of corrupt Nigerian police officers a hefty sum to release two of their staff. They would call in the British Consulate and the whole thing could drag on for ages. Serena set no store by these methods. She had to find an alternative, to get Bernie out of there as fast as possible. She got Ange’s number from Mo and called her directly. What she heard, she liked very much. Ange was practical, down to earth and determined to use every possible avenue to get Bernie and Roxanna released from house arrest.

“Bernie tells me you’re her partner, Serena. Well just so you know, we all think she’s fabulous. I was really looking forward to doing the evaluation with her in Kaduna. I hope it can still happen but we’re running out of time. In four days’ time she’s due back in Lagos to fly home. If they let her go, of course.”

“How on earth did you persuade the police chief to let them out of the cell to go to the hotel?” Serena asked.

“Ah that was a stroke of luck. I went with the project driver to talk to the police chief, but he would only talk to me. He sent Adam out. When I got in there, he asked me some questions and when he heard my accent he asked where in Scotland I was from. I told him Glasgow, and then he changed completely. Seems he had a government scholarship to study a Masters in Criminology in Glasgow 20 years ago. He wanted to talk about Celtic and Rangers. That may have helped.”

“Mm, I see,” mused Serena, the cogs in her brain whirling. “And what did he say they wanted, to let Bernie and Rox go?”

“Well, he didn’t say anything to me directly, he just said the university or the project had to come up with the right “solution” to get permission for them to work in Kaduna. And we all know what that means. Sacha will come with the guy from the Consulate tomorrow, but I don’t think that’s gonnae help. They don’t pay bribes, and a load of white guys in suits pulling rank and all that is meaningless here. Probably just make it worse.”

“Right, we need to find another way. Just keep your ear to the ground and if there’s anything you think might work, give me a call. And keep it between us, eh?”

“I’ll do my best,” Ange replied.


	6. Superman or Superwoman?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanssen and Serena finally work out a possible solution to the impasse which has Bernie and Roxanna held under guard in their hotel room. Ange gives not a little help. The British Consulate none at all. Acceptance of the proposal, however, comes with a specific condition for which Serena is unprepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * ELTJ= The English Language Teaching Journal 
> 
> I'm 100% sure that real British universities would never have this degree of flexibility or even budget to spare (or not at such short notice) but we'll skip over that because, hey ho, Bernie and Roxanna have to be released!

Serena slept badly and was awakened by her phone at 7am. Hanssen.

“Things are moving in Nigeria”, he said. “Can you get here by 8?”

When Serena walked into the Vice-Chancellor’s office at 7.55 am, Hanssen was already Face-Timing with Sacha Levy.

“Nigeria’s an hour ahead of us, Sacha has already arrived in Kaduna with Bob Symonds from the Consulate in Kano.” Hanssen said, turning his head away from the screen. Sacha continued his monologue unperturbed. Serena caught the words “typical extortion” and “not UK policy”, which pretty much summed up the whole situation.

“Can I talk to Bob Symonds please?” Serena asked, elbowing Hanssen aside as tactfully as possible.

“Er..yes..hello, Sarah is it?”

“Serena. Serena Campbell, Director of Holby International Education Centre at Holby University, Dr. Wolfe’s colleague. Can you tell me, Bob, what will happen to Dr Wolfe and Ms Macmillan if the police department is not satisfied with what you tell them or offer them in order to resolve this situation?”

“Er…” Symonds blinked owlishly through his tinted aviator shades, a fashion statement somewhat at odds with his plain white open-necked shirt and crumpled khaki trousers.

“I’ve just been in to see the Assistant Commissioner of police. He told us that the fine for not having the correct paperwork to permit them to enter Kaduna for work purposes is ten thousand US dollars each. If this is not paid by the time their hotel reservation expires, they’ll be moved to a police holding cell.”

Serena struggled to keep her breathing even, despite the fact that her heart was hammering and every cell in her body was straining to jump into the screen and pummel the spineless diplomat until he morphed into Superman and marched into the hotel to bring Bernie out. Some hope. 

“But you’re not going to let this happen, right, Bob?” she managed to say, controlling her tone to keep it as neutral as possible.

“This is an unprecedented situation,” Symonds began, “I’ll have to seek assistance from the High Commission in Abuja. You know we can’t pay bribes.”

“And how long will that take, do you think?”

Symonds squirmed under the relentless questioning. “I could maybe get someone here tomorrow afternoon.”

“You are aware, I hope, that the hotel reservation was for three nights. So last night was one, tomorrow night is two and by the time your colleague arrives, there won’t be much more time for diplomacy.”

Symonds lifted his arms then dropped them, as if to say, “Well, what more can I do?”

“Sacha”, Hanssen took over, as the situation seemed to be rapidly deteriorating. “Have you tried writing the necessary letter and presenting it to the Chief?”

“Of course, Henrik, that’s the first thing we did, as soon as I arrived I presented it to him. But he said something about stable doors and horses bolting.”

“So it’s money he wants, is that it? Just money and he’ll let them go, or he’ll keep them as hostages.”

“That’s how it seems. But it’s a game he’s playing. He knows education projects don’t have that sort of money to throw about. And he’s well aware of the stance of the British High Commission because of all the criminal hostage situations they’ve had to negotiate in the past.”

“So is there something else he wants? Can’t you go back and talk to him?”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me, he’s said so. He seems to want to talk to someone higher, from the university.”

“Well, will he talk to me?” asked Hanssen.

_Two hours later_

Ange was clearly very efficient. She not only got Assistant Commissioner of Police Abashe Yakubu to agree to talk to Serena and Henrik, but when he heard that Hanssen was the Vice-Chancellor of Holby University, he insisted on donning his official police commissioner’s cap.

The first thing that Serena noticed about him was his sad expression, although during the conversation, she caught the occasional sparkle in his eye, showing that beneath his imposing and serious exterior, the man had a sense of humour. Serena let Hanssen do the talking as they established their bona fides and Yakubu emphasised the seriousness of the offence committed by the project by not requesting his permission for Bernie and Roxana to enter Kaduna to work. For a while, they went around and around, as Hanssen emphasised that this was not the university’s fault, and Yakubu refused to back down.

“With the greatest respect, Mr Vice-Chancellor, people cannot just walk into my city and expect to work in our state institutions without clearing it with us. This is for their own protection as well as being a matter of protocol. We can’t have the wrong people coming in, as I’m sure you understand. We have serious security issues in Nigeria, in this region especially, we have to take precautions. And we are responsible for the safety of our visitors.”

“I quite understand, Assistant Commissioner, and I believe this was an oversight on the part of our colleagues in Kano. But you must also surely understand that we, servants of the state, like yourself, do not have access to large amounts of money like this. And I am sure that you do not want to be responsible for keeping Dr. Wolfe and Ms. Macmillan in police custody beyond the period of their visit. There could be diplomatic consequences ……..”

“I believe,” Yakubu said firmly, bringing his hand down onto the table where he sat, “that people from wealthier countries need to consider more carefully before sending their employees into potentially dangerous situations without first informing those who would be blamed if they were not adequately protected. The fine is to teach you a lesson. Not personally, of course, but to make a point. We are poorly paid, under-resourced and fighting better equipped enemies. You place a great strain on us as it is.”

The conversation seemed to stall and Hanssen was clearly unable to move it in the direction that Serena wanted it to go.

“Tell him you’ll think and call him back within three hours,” she hissed. And Hanssen, for once at a loss, did as he was told.

“So what now, Serena?” he asked. “You know as well as I that we can’t get $20,000 in cash to hand over to a corrupt police official.”

“Let me make some enquiries and think a bit more”, Serena said, leaving the office. As soon as she got into the corridor she called Ange, but her call was cut off. Remembering that Ange had set up the call for Yakubu using Skype on her laptop, Serena thought she might still be in the policeman’s office, so she waited. Thirty seconds later she got a message. “Talking to him. Call you later”.

***

The hotel room in Kaduna was adequate, and after four hours the previous day in a bare, filthy police holding cell, with just two small bottles of water between them, it was luxury. But by mid-morning Bernie was pacing restlessly, frustrated that she couldn’t call Serena, angry that Sacha Levy had not properly done his homework before dispatching them in the project vehicle.

“Bernie, sit down, you’re making me dizzy”, murmured Roxanna as she sat at her laptop updating her spreadsheet.

“I just don’t know what to do, I need to do something” she said, through gritted teeth.

Roxanna smiled and looked up at her. “Sometimes it’s a relief to have no internet”, she said, winking at Bernie, “then I can get my reports written and my student and agent spreadsheets updated. Hell, if this goes on much longer I can finish my budget for the year.”

“Flippancy isn’t helping”, Bernie said, flopping down on her bed.

“Hey, you’re usually the cool, calm collected one”, teased Roxanna. “But seriously, conserve your energy. Things are going to get worse before they get better. “

“How d’you reckon that?” asked Bernie, propping herself up on an elbow.

Roxanna sighed and straightened her back, pushing at the sides of her chair in a stretch.

“Well, they usually do, and we need to be prepared. But in reality, look, Ange managed to get that note to us through the back window earlier, and we know that things are happening on the diplomatic front. My guess is that the Assistant Commissioner, what’s his name? Yakubu, will ask for money. A lot of money.”

“Which won’t be forthcoming.”

“Exactly”, smiled Roxanna.

“So we’re hostages,” said Bernie glumly, much more depressed by the idea of being confined than by any possible danger.

“Sort of. I can’t see what he can gain by keeping us here beyond the time we booked, unless he wants to cause a diplomatic incident. Maybe he does, who knows? The point is, we have to trust Henrik and Serena and other people to find the way through.”

“And in the meantime?”

“Do some stretches, or push ups or whatever Action Women do to burn off their frustration. It’ll be lunch time soon. Then maybe the guard will disappear for a few minutes and we can talk to Ange.”

And Roxanna went back to her spreadsheet.

***

Ange had been busy. Fired up as she was with absolute determination to get her colleagues out of detention, she was also finding, to her surprise, that Abashe Yakubu was getting to her. In Ange’s experience in Africa so far with officials demanding money, it was usually just a matter of gritting one’s teeth and negotiating a settlement that both sides could live with, but Yakubu was having none of it. Once Hanssen had cut the Skype call, Ange spent more time than was necessary shutting down the laptop, and tried to engage Yakubu in conversation.

“You know, Assistant Commissioner, I get your point, I really do, about the strain on your resources having to protect people like us.”

Yakubu took off his hat and looked at her to make sure she was being sincere. Ange looked back at him with her wide deep blue eyes and he seemed to soften.

“This is something most people cannot appreciate”, he said. “It pains me, really it does, to have to lock up two distinguished visitors but I need to teach the higher -ups a lesson.”

Tread carefully, Ange told herself.

“Just as a matter of interest, Assistant Commissioner..”

“Abashe,” he insisted.

“Right, Abashe, as a matter of interest, what would you do with twenty thousand dollars if they did actually give it to you?” she asked innocently.

Yakubu threw back his head and roared with laughter.

***

Serena was sitting in her office with her third double espresso of the day, flipping through the latest copy of the ELTJ* without seeing a single word on the page, when Ange called her back. She didn’t waste time in getting to the point.

“Serena, do you have a Criminology Department at Holby University?

“Yes, we do. A very good one, in fact. They do a lot of training with local police forces.”

“Right, well I think I may have a solution. I’ve just had a chat with Commissioner Yakubu and I think there’s something he could use a lot more than money. Oh and by the way, the money he asked for is not for himself.”

“Or so he says,” Serena muttered.

“OK, I can see you’re sceptical, and I’ve been in Africa long enough to know when I’m being scammed or when officials are just looking to line their pockets. This is different. I can feel it. It’s about losing face.”

Five minutes later, Serena ended the call with Ange and immediately called the Dean of the Social Sciences Faculty, where Criminology was located. She booked an emergency appointment, then called Hanssen and told him to meet her in the Dean’s office in five minutes.

The head of Criminology, Chris Patchett, was a former Chief Superintendant of police who had taken early retirement in order to do research. He had completed his PhD in the Economics of Global Terrorism and now ran one of the most dynamic, cross-disciplinary departments in the university, straddling Law, Economics, Cybercrime and Sociology. He listened to what Serena had to say and nodded enthusiastically. The Dean, a rather severe – looking woman in a dark suit and pearls, merely nodded and gave him the floor.

“We’ve done some work in Nigeria before,” Patchett said, “we had a team working with the police in Borno state to help them fight Boko Harem. We’ve had a few Masters students from Nigeria as well.”.

“Chris, I need you to take a look at your funding for this academic year and help me find two full Masters scholarships, and either some short courses run in-country or free places on short police anti-terror training courses. And I need it, with full financial guarantees in …1 hour and fifty minutes.”

“Serena, I don’t think…” Hanssen began, but Patchett nodded and looked at the Dean. She uncrossed her arms and gave a faint smile.

“My family is from Ghana originally,” she said, “and I can see that this Police Assistant Commissioner is definitely cut from different cloth than most of the African police I’ve ever met. His experience in the UK 20 years ago also seems to have marked him. Chris, you already have programmes running using lecturers from several different departments. I suggest you go and find some little pockets of money that have not yet been used up. I’ll back anything you come up with, provided other departments are on board with it.”

“Leave it with me”, Patchett said, leaping to his feet. “An hour and fifty it is”.

***

Serena was too nervous to eat lunch and all the coffee had made her jittery so she went for a walk around the campus. It was a beautiful autumn day, golden and sunlit but with a chill in the air. Serena wrapped her scarf more tightly round her throat and tried not to think of Bernie in a police cell. Though her rational mind knew she and Roxanna were safe in the hotel, she felt that the situation was too precarious to be complacent. She wanted to smack Henrik, whose carefully controlled exterior did not allow her to see what must have been his personal worry for Roxanna. Not for the first time Serena wondered whether she had been over- protective of Bernie, or whether she should have protested even harder against her going. At the end of the day, however, Bernie would make her own decisions, and Serena had to live with them. Bernie was no fool, nor was she reckless, but she had certainly had her fair share of adventures and the scars to show for it. Serena just prayed she would get Bernie back in one piece.

Chris Patchett was as good as his word. At 1.30pm, he entered Hanssen’s office brandishing a printed piece of paper which he placed on the desk. Serena leant over to read it. It was a hastily typed official offer letter to the Police Department of Kaduna, addressed to Assistant Commissioner Abashe Yakubu. On top was a brief cover letter for the Ministry of Education in Abuja, as part of the protocol. Patchett had found 2 fully-funded Masters places in Criminology and Criminal Justice, 10 places for ranks of Inspector and above on 3 different short courses in anti-terror policing, and, the biggest miracle of all, 2 police trainers due to deliver a 2 week course at the Police Academy in Abuja in April of the next year, who had agreed to extend their programme for another 2 weeks to deliver a special course in Kaduna for ranks below Inspector. Somehow he had found the funds to cover the trainers, and the Dean had signed off on the whole package. Serena breathed a sigh of relief as Hanssen scrawled his signature on the line for the Vice-Chancellor and affixed the seal of the university.

“Thank you, Chris”, Serena, said, almost in tears, giving him a brief hug.

“That’s pretty much our whole scholarship budget eaten up for this year,” Patchett said ruefully, “but at least it’s in a good cause. You seem very heavily invested in this, Serena, are they your people, being held in Kaduna?”

“It’s my partner, Bernie Wolfe,” confessed Serena. “And the other is Roxanna Macmillan, the Head of International Recruitment.”

“Oh wow, that’s a pretty big deal. Henrik you must be pretty torn up as well. Well, good luck and let me know how it goes”, and he left the room.

“So, are we ready to do this, Henrik?” asked Serena, quickly scanning the papers with a phone app, and having noted Patchett's oblique reference to a relationship between Roxanna and Hanssen.

“Er yes, yes,” Hanssen seemed flustered as he glanced at his watch and started fussing with his iPad.

“And if you don’t mind, I’d like to make the offer to Yakubu”, said Serena, positioning herself in front of the iPad before Hanssen could react.

Ange’s Skype sign came alive bang on time and after connecting, Commissioner Yakubu appeared in the frame.

“Assistant Commissioner,” began Serena firmly. “Dr. Serena Campbell, Director of the Holby International Education Centre, where Dr. Wolfe works. We are extremely anxious to get Dr. Wolfe and Ms. Macmillan released from detention so that they may continue their work with teachers and students in Kaduna. To that end, I have taken personal responsibility for finding a solution to this matter of protocol. You must surely know that paying Iarge sums of cash is out of the question. But I have here “, holding up the paper, “an alternative proposal that I think could benefit both sides. This is a firm offer from the Vice-Chancellor of Holby University for training, in both the UK and Nigeria, for the Kaduna Police Department. I will send scans of these to your email now if you can tell me your address.”

Yakubu showed no reaction, but Ange pushed a piece of paper and a pen at him to write down his email. This done, she skyped it to Serena, who promptly emailed the documents. Yakubu opened the attachments with his phone and read them carefully in silence for a few minutes. Serena’s muscles were twitching with the suspense, her desire for him to accept the offer so strong that she could hardly keep still. By her side, she was conscious of Hanssen’s ragged breathing. Aha, she thought, the man has feelings after all.

Finally Abashe looked up. He was smiling crookedly.

“Dr. Campbell, Vice-Chancellor, this is a very handsome offer and, if genuine, would serve my Department very well. Well enough to accept it in place of the permission for your colleagues to work in Kaduna.” Serena exhaled, but wait a minute, “If genuine”? What did that mean?

Hanssen beat her to it. “I assure you, the document is genuine. I signed it myself and you have the stamp of the university there.”

“So I see”. Yakubu sounded amused. “But I don’t have the _actual_ document. So much fakery these days, if you know what I mean.”

Serena started twitching again, in frustration this time. “I will have it sent by DHL today”, she said, “With express service you should have it in 36 to 48 hours.”

“There’s no guarantee of that. Documents get lost in Africa all the time. No, I want the original _hand delivered_ “.

“I can send it to my colleague in Lagos, and she can carry it to Kaduna. How’s that?” asked Serena, desperately conscious of the time slipping away – 48 hours to reach Mo, then Mo to fly up to Kaduna. Bernie and Roxanna would be back in a cell by then.

“No, Dr. Campbell …you will bring it yourself.”

“Me?” she asked in astonishment, but as soon as the thought had entered her head, the words _Why not?_ came from nowhere.

“Yes, you. You will notify me of your flight details and I will send a police escort to the airport to meet you.”

“Right, right”, she stammered. “And can you release my colleagues to do their work now?”

“When I receive the letter from you,” is all Yakubu would say.

“I see. Well, er I’ll be in touch, Assistant Commissioner,” said a stunned Serena.

“Au revoir, Dr. Campbell”, said Yakubu with a twinkle in his eye.

_I’m going to rescue Bernie!_ she thought, at once both joyful and apprehensive.


	7. Dangerous Animals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena travels to Nigeria to carry the letter from Holby University to the Assistant Commissioner of police. The team from the British High Commission arrives at the same time and Serena sends them packing. Assistant Commissioner Yakubu releases Bernie and Roxanna and gradually Serena discovers his secret reason for wanting her to go in person. And all's well that ends well.....well almost!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is the final chapter, but I may be tempted to add an epilogue. Hell, I always add an epilogue! After this, we will leave our ladies in their Happy Days to continue their adventures with no further angst, and I won't be adding to this little universe. It's been great fun, but time to move on!

_I was a desert, honey you were the sand_ _  
I was a bird, baby you were the branch  
And I flew into the blue and watched those flowers die  
It wasn't much, just everything  
You could've sat right there and got high with me  
But you fell asleep and your dreaming brought the nightmares  
Brought the nightmares_

"Mockingbird" by Ruston Kelly.

Ange had telephoned Serena as soon as she had left Yakubu’s office, knowing, from what she had seen and heard, that Serena was totally unprepared for this journey.

“Serena, are you going to be able to do this?” Ange asked worriedly. “Is there anything I or Mo can do to help”.

“Well, this isn’t what I was expecting, and I admit I’m a bit suspicious of his motives, but what choice do I have? Someone has to get Bernie and Roxanna out of there. The staff travel people are working it out now. Looks like I’ll have to fly tomorrow morning, today it’s too late, and I also need a Yellow Fever shot before I can enter the country, so we have to arrange that at the clinic at Heathrow. Look, Ange, don’t worry, I’ll be there, but please do me a favour and don’t tell Bernie I’m coming. Just tell her the university is arranging for a very generous training offer to be couriered to Commissioner Yakubu and that it will be here the day after tomorrow at the latest. OK? I’ll call you when I have a firm schedule.”

Ange wondered whether Yakubu had arranged for Bernie and Roxanna to be given information, so she went back to his office. He seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood, and sent one of his officers over to the hotel with her so that she could inform Bernie and Roxanna herself.

***

Bernie had reached the limits of her patience by the morning of the second day of their incarceration, but on being told that a letter from Hanssen bearing an acceptable proposal was being couriered to the police in Kaduna, and that it should arrive within 24 hours, she set her mind to other things. Since a solution had been proposed and accepted, the rules around Ange visiting had been relaxed, and she was allowed to brief Bernie and Roxanna every day for 30 minutes morning and evening and report on the course they were running and on progress with Holby University in freeing them from detention. Unfortunately, she had to hand her phone to the officer on duty outside the room before going in.

“I bet Serena is climbing the walls”, moaned Bernie, “WHY can’t they let me call her? She’ll be out of her mind with worry.”

“No, she won’t”, Ange reassured her. “I’ve spoken to her every day and explained exactly what’s happening. She’s worried, of course, but I’ve told her that you’ll be freed as soon as the letter arrives.”

“I don’t understand why they need the damned letter in hard copy”, Bernie complained. “If it has the Vice-Chancellor’s seal, a scan should be fine.”

“This is Africa”, smiled Roxanna, “nothing is ever simple. But the good news is that Henrik passed a message to Ange that if we get out tomorrow as planned, we can stay two more days to get the original job done. And I’m moving us to a resort with a 2-bedroom apartment.”

“Two more days, bloody hell. I need to get the job done, but Serena will go ballistic.”

Roxanna bit her lip and looked at Ange. “I really don’t think she will, Bernie. This is bigger than just you, it’s a job we’re here to do and this is an unnecessary hold-up. She can see that Roxanna is in the same position”.

Roxanna nodded. “Absolutely. Now I’ve come this far, I’m not going to turn around and go home without completing my task. Besides, they need me to help them draw up a plan for sending the selected police officers to Holby for training.”

“Right,” Bernie reluctantly agreed. “So, let’s get on with this evaluation, Ange…”

***

Serena was in a whirl. Ric and Essie had booked her on the morning flight to Lagos on British Airways- only Business Class was available, but Hanssen approved it as an emergency. They had left the return flexible. She had been sent home to pack and a car was coming to collect her at 4.30 am to take her to Heathrow, where she would have to visit the clinic to get her shots before boarding. 

At 9pm, Hanssen was surprised by a ring on his doorbell at home. Opening it, he found a harassed- looking Serena holding a cat basket from which a plaintive miaowing was issuing. In the other hand she had a shopping basket full of cat food and cat litter.

“I’m sorry, Henrik, but my daughter is not available to come and stay with Jason while I’m away and the cattery is full. Feed him half a sachet of Whiskas twice a day, and throw in the odd handful of biscuits. Nothing else. Water only to drink. Don’t let him out and be aware that he’s very playful. You should put anything valuable away from his sharp little claws.”

Serena then retreated, leaving a bemused Hanssen looking at the dark brown creature in the basket observing him with bright green eyes.

“Well, well, Jason. Looks like we’re stuck with each other”.

***

36 hours later, Serena stepped, squinting, into the bright sunlight of Kaduna airport, the heat and humidity hugging her like a thick blanket as she made her way down the aircraft steps and crossed the tarmac, fumbling for her sunglasses. Despite the overnight rest with Mo and Derwood, Serena’s stomach was crawling with anxiety and she had been unable to sleep, thinking of Bernie cooped up in the hotel room wondering, no doubt, when she would be freed. Part of that anxiety was connected with the fact that she had not allowed anyone to tell Bernie that she herself would be carrying the all-important letter.

As she neared the terminal building, a uniformed police officer stepped smartly forward holding a sign bearing the name “Dr. Serena Campbell”. 

“That’s me,” Serena said, lowering her glasses to look at the officer, who was a young, intelligent-looking woman in sharply pressed dark green trousers and matching short-sleeved tunic with silver buttons and epaulettes, and a beret.

The policewoman smiled and ushered her politely through the doorway before walking ahead and snapping her fingers at another officer who disappeared towards the exit to get the car.

“I’m Sergeant Amina”, she introduced herself, “and Assistant Commissioner Yakubu has assigned me to take care of you while you are in Kaduna. Let’s pick up your luggage and then we will go straight to the police station.”

Serena’s anxiety abated a little as Amina chatted with her during the drive into the city. She discovered that the Sergeant was 32, divorced with a young daughter, and that she had just passed her inspector’s exam, which would mean, when a position became available, that she would be one of the youngest inspectors in the region.

“How do you manage child care if you work such long hours?” Serena wanted to know.

Amina smiled “Since my divorce I live back with my parents. My mother is at home and they have a maid. They take care of my child. I have no worries about that, they are very good with her.”

“Lucky indeed”, said Serena. “It means you can concentrate on your career.”

“Yes, my father is in the police force and also my brother, so they understand my wish to reach a high position.”

At this moment, the car pulled into the front yard of the police station. The guard at the entrance saluted as they passed and Amina inclined her head.

“This is the Assistant Commissioner’s car”, she explained. “They always salute when it passes”.

“I see. And what’s he like, this Assistant Commissioner?”, Serena risked as the door was opened for her to get out. The Sergeant climbed out of the other side and came around to join her.

“We’ll take your luggage directly to the hotel in a while”, she said, waving the car off. “Commissioner Yakubu? I think he’s a fair man. Not corrupt like so many in Nigeria. He studied in the UK, you know, he very much admires your education system.”

They had entered the building and were ushered into the reception area, where a large man with an impressive quantity of silver braid on his uniform was waiting.

“Dr. Campbell I assume”, he said in a deep voice, holding out his hand. “I am Yakubu. Welcome to Kaduna.”

***

Sergeant Amina had disappeared, and Yakubu showed Serena into his office and closed the door. She sat in front of his desk and he eased his impressive bulk into his chair.

“So, Dr. Campbell, do you have something for me?” he asked teasingly.

“Yes, Assistant Commissioner,” Serena began, delving into her handbag for the envelope.

“Please, call me Abashe,” he said. “And may I call you Serena?”

“Er..yes, I suppose so,” Serena was suddenly on the back foot, unsure of herself and feeling somewhat trapped.

“In Africa we like things to be a little less formal”, he explained with a twinkle in his eye.

Serena handed over the envelope, which Yakubu carefully opened with a pearl-handled letter knife. She sat in silence while he read and noted his expression of satisfaction.

“Thank you, Serena,” he said, looking her in the eye. “You can’t imagine what this means to me. It is not about money, you know. We are fighting Boko Haram, it is a hard fight. Some bad people in this region want to help them, but we can’t allow that. We need better education for our officers, more professionalism, discipline. They are not well paid and that is one problem, but if we can invest in them in other ways, they have pride in their job.”

Serena regarded him for a moment, detecting no insincerity in his voice or expression.

“I’m sure …. Abashe. I’m happy we were able to find such an appropriate solution. Now do you think I could go to the hotel and get my colleagues released and back to work?”

“Yes, of course”, he rose and opened the door for her to pass through, then accompanied her to the entrance, where they waited for the car. At that moment, however, a silver Toyota SUV swung into the forecourt and came to a halt with a screech of brakes, doors opening as soon as it came to a standstill. Two men in white shirts and dark ties got out and walked towards them. Behind them came a large shambling man in dusty khakis and a loud patterned shirt.

“Jeremy Goodfellow, British High Commission, Abuja,” said the older, stouter of the two, holding out his hand to Yakubu.

Yakubu looked amused. “And Mr. Symonds and Dr. Levy, I see,” indicating the Consular official from Kano, standing to one side, and Sacha, who had been hanging back, clearly not keen to meet the policeman.

“Er, yes, Assistant Commissioner,” Sacha mumbled, moving forward, jerking his head in surprise as he recognised Serena.

“And what can I do for you gentlemen?” asked Yakubu, folding his arms across his chest.

Goodfellow produced a document with the crest of the British High Commission on it.

“We’re here to demand the release of two British subjects who are being detained by the police department,” he said pompously.

“The two British subjects who entered Kaduna illegally for work three days ago ?” Yakubu said, glancing at Sacha Levy, who hung his head.

“Well, that’s a matter of dispute,” began Goodfellow with an air of impatient arrogance. Serena stepped forward.

“Dr. Serena Campbell, Holby University. I believe the matter is now resolved, gentlemen”.

Symonds squinted at her through his shades. “Aren’t you the person I was talking to on a Skype connection two days ago?”

“Yes, Bob. And you told me you might be able to get someone here by -and I quote ‘tomorrow afternoon’. That would be yesterday. So, as you see, I came all the way from England and beat you to it.”

“Did you know Holby were sending someone?” asked Goodfellow accusingly, turning to his subordinate.

“Er, no, Jeremy, of course not.”

“Well, you might have run it by us,” retorted Goodfellow, glaring at Serena, “and saved me coming all this way from Abuja.”

“Well what’s in that document?” asked Serena. “How were you planning to deal with this situation?”

“It’s an official request from Her Majesty’s government to release the two subjects and allow them to leave Kaduna unmolested”, Goodfellow said confidently.

“Well, I doubt very much that it would have worked. Whereas we have apologised for neglecting to prepare the correct documentation for Dr. Wolfe and Ms Macmillan and I have just hand delivered to the Assistant Commissioner an offer of training services in compensation. I am now going to release my colleagues”, Serena said, in her haughtiest tone. The two men exchanged glances, appearing suddenly at a loss.

“I think that will be all, gentlemen”, said Yakubu. “No further action to be taken. Now if you’ll excuse us”, and he snapped his fingers in the air to summon his driver who was waiting on the far side of the forecourt.

“Right”, mumbled Symonds, “Let’s er..get back, Jeremy. No need to hang around.”

Serena watched them get back into their car, Sacha climbing gratefully into the rear seat, and drive off. When Yakubu’s car pulled up, Sergeant Amina got out and opened the door for Serena.

“To the hotel”, she commanded the driver.

Yakubu leaned forward and tapped on the window. When Serena lowered it, he said

“By the way, you and your colleagues will be joining me in the hotel dining room for lunch at 12.30 sharp.” Serena nodded, unable to say anything else before the car pulled away.

Ange was waiting anxiously in reception. Despite not knowing each other previously, there was an immediate moment of recognition.

“Serena, I’m so glad you’re here”, Ange said, embracing her. Serena hugged back and whispered “Bernie doesn’t know, does she?”

“No, no”, Ange reassured her.

Serena watched the driver bring her luggage in and leave it next to reception.

“Roxanna has booked a 2 bedroom apartment at a resort for her and Bernie”, Ange said. “So leave the luggage with the bell captain and you can pick it up later”.

Serena felt the butterflies start up a war in her stomach as the moment of reunion with Bernie came closer. Would Bernie be angry that she had come herself, and made her wait three days as a prisoner? Or upset that Serena had had to be the courier? Serena had no idea. She also worried that Sergeant Amina was with them, and that Bernie might have a reaction which would reveal the nature of their relationship, not something that would be acceptable in Nigeria, and especially not in this region. She was pondering on this when the lift arrived and Sergeant Amina stepped out first, turning to address Serena.

“Dr. Campbell, my orders are to dismiss the constable on duty and go back to the police station. The Assistant Commissioner has asked for you all to join him for lunch downstairs in..” she consulted her watch “two hours. Meanwhile, you are free to do as you wish and join your colleagues.”

Amina stepped back into the lift with the constable, and Ange raised her eyebrows. “Ready?”

***

Bernie opened the screen door to the terrace in their new resort apartment, wishing she still smoked. Serena was in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Bernie was still in her swimsuit and robe after a relaxing swim. As she popped the top on a beer from the minibar and sank gratefully onto a lounger, she saw a figure a few feet away doing the same.

“Long day”, Roxanna commented, smiling at Bernie.

“Incredibly. I’m ready to drop”, Bernie said.

Roxanna raised her eyebrows “Oh, surely not just yet?” she teased. Bernie blushed in the darkness.

“Well at least my room is on the other side of the apartment,” Roxanna laughed, “because knowing you two, there could be a fair amount of noise.”

Bernie flipped the bottle top at her. “Maybe you should have got Ange to ask Henrik to come and join you as well”, Bernie said. This time it was Roxanna’s turn to blush.

“Anyway, thanks for getting this apartment, it’s a treat after being cooped up in that room for nearly three days.”

“Apparently Henrik has authorised payment”, Roxanna said, smiling.

“Well, there you go. Nothing like being the VC’s favourite, eh?”

Suddenly a shriek came from inside the apartment and both Bernie and Roxanna jumped to their feet and raced inside.

“Serena, what’s wrong?” called Bernie in alarm. The bathroom door opened and Serena appeared wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel that she was attempting to secure around her breasts.

“There’s a snake”, she wailed, “it came in through the window”.

“I doubt that,” frowned Roxanna, “there’s netting over the windows.”

“It’s a snake”, insisted Serena.

Bernie glanced at Roxanna, who was grabbing a wooden coat hanger from the wardrobe.

“Have you ever killed a snake?”

“Nope,” answered Roxanna. “If it’s really a snake, we’ll have to call the staff to catch it. This is just self-defence.”

Bernie led the way to the bathroom and gingerly opened the door, standing well back and looking all around, conscious of her bare feet and legs. Roxanna had put her sandals on, and advanced, brandishing the coat hanger. They both looked all around the clean, white room, seeing nothing until a sudden flick of a tail caught Bernie’s eye as something shot up the wall.

“Over there”, she said, indicating. Roxanna came fully into the bathroom and looked up. Then she burst out laughing. At that moment a clicking sound came from the wall, and Roxanna stepped forward and reached out her hand, bringing with her a beautiful dark brown lizard about 20 cm long with a vivid white stripe down its back. The lizard gripped her hand with its claws and regarded them with total indifference.

“It’s a fat-tailed gecko”, she explained. “I don’t know how it got in, maybe when the maid came to clean, but it’s harmless. In fact, some people in the west keep them as pets.”

“Ugh”, Serena exclaimed, moving away. Bernie was fascinated by the way the towel was slipping, barely covering Serena’s breasts, which jiggled as she moved.

“Look, he’s a beauty”, insisted Roxanna, as the lizard clung to her hand. She glanced up at Bernie whose eyes were still fixed on Serena’s towel, then she smiled and moved out of the bathroom.

“I’ll just ..er..go and put this little fellow outside. And I’ll say goodnight. It’s been a long day.”

“Are you coming in, since you seem unable to keep your eyes off this towel?” Serena asked, tugging Bernie ‘s robe and closing the bathroom door behind them.

“May as well,” mumbled Bernie, shrugging off the robe as Serena reached out her hand to turn on the shower. Serena slowly removed the towel and hung it on the rail, never taking her eyes off Bernie, who shed her swimsuit with a single movement and pinned Serena to the wall under the cascade of warm water.

“Big macho world traveller, huh?” taunted Serena, nipping Bernie on the neck and pressing their breasts together. “Ready to kill a snake for me!”

“Shut up Campbell”, growled Bernie, sliding a hand between their bodies to find Serena wet, ready and willing.

An hour later, despite her exhaustion and feeling of deep satedness, Serena couldn’t sleep. She lay on her back letting the ceiling fan dry her sweat and turned her head to look at Bernie, who was gazing up at the ceiling.

“Were you really pleased to see me?” she asked with a casualness she didn’t feel.

“Of course!”, Bernie exclaimed, turning to her. “Of course, I was, Serena, I was …there are no words for how relieved and happy I was when you walked in that door. I never imagined that you would…”

“Jump on a plane and come all the way to Nigeria to help you out?” Serena suggested, relief washing over her.

“Yes. No. Not exactly. It was more that you took control of the situation and sorted those useless men out. Honestly, what’s the point of having a consulate if they can’t do something simple like fixing a local misunderstanding?”

“Well, I agree they’re useless, and I’m not much impressed with Sacha either. But Yakubu was playing a game with us anyway.”

“So was that your idea to jump on a plane and hand-carry that letter to him? I’m impressed.”

“I’d like to say it was, but it was his idea,” confessed Serena. “I was really shocked when he told me what he wanted. But then I thought….yes, I want to go and be the one who solves the problem for you.”

“So what was all that about anyway? I mean we could have FedExed the letter, why insist on you coming?”

“He wanted me to meet his daughter”, said Serena. “Sergeant Amina. She’s Amina Yakubu. He wants her to be one of the Masters candidates but he didn’t want people to think it was just favouritism. He wanted me to meet her so I could see her for myself.”

“Wow”, said Bernie. “That’s interesting. I had a long chat with her over lunch and she’s definitely bright and very committed.”

“That was the idea, I believe. The Criminology Department will have to look over her application, and Rox and I are making sure she’s in the first training group coming over so that the Department can assess her better, but yes, I think she’ll do well.”

“Mmm, and what about us?” asked Bernie in a warm voice, sliding her leg over Serena’s and moving closer. “Will we do well?”

“Bernie, I’ve been a fool”, said Serena, rolling onto her side and propping her chin on her hand. “It’s taken this experience to make me understand better, but I just felt so…underconfident when you were away. Now I can see it, and I’m sorry. Of course I don’t doubt you. Especially not when I saw the look on your face when I came in the door.”

“What look on my face?” asked Bernie.

“A very intoxicating mixture of stunned and delighted", Serena clarified. "And I thought, yes, we’re a team. We can do this, I can do this."

Bernie smiled in the darkness. “And Rox is jealous”, she said, “because you came all this way to get us released, and Henrik didn’t.”

“Henrik’s the VC, he can’t exactly jump on a plane at the drop of a hat”, Serena retorted. “But if it’s any consolation, he wishes it could have been him. So I left Jason to keep him company.”

Bernie’s surprised laugh turned into a full blown honking.

“Oh, Serena, you didn’t! Poor Henrik!” and they clutched each other, laughing until they were sobbing.

When they were quiet again, Bernie said.

“I know I’ve been a poor communicator in the past, Serena, but I’ll be better, I promise. And we’ll try to plan the trips so that you can join me more often.”

“Well, once thing Henrik did say when he got me my ticket to Lagos was that maybe I could cover some of Roxanna’s markets in future. She’s somewhat overloaded, according to Henrik. I think he wants her home more often. So, starting tomorrow, I’ll be working alongside her on the recruiting business, meeting agents and whatnot.”

“And identifying dangerous animals in the locations you’ll be sent to?” Bernie laughed.

“Cheeky!”

“Right, let’s get some sleep, Campbell, you’ve got a hard day’s work ahead of you!”


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little epilogue to round things off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo-hoo, here we are, the end of a 4-fic AU, taking me from novice writer to old hack and spread over almost a 30 year period. It's been great fun, and thanks to all you folks for taking the time to read and comment. Always very much appreciated!

Bernie came awake with a tickle on her nose. Reaching blindly to scratch it, her hand connected with a furry paw. She opened her eyes in a momentary panic, but as the ceiling came into view, she realised that she was at home in her and Serena’s bedroom, and that the furry paw belonged to the pair of green eyes looking quizzically into hers. A loud purring reached her ears, and the paws began kneading the duvet at her shoulder.

“Good morning, Jason”, she groaned, as he miaowed plaintively.

“Well at least he’s glad to have us back”, came a voice from somewhere under the duvet, as Serena emerged, hair tousled and eyes still half-closed.

“What time is it?” she asked.

Bernie angled her new fitness gadget into view on her wrist. “Seven ten”, she said, “and I can report that I’ve had exactly six hours and forty minutes sleep, much of it restless.”

“Not bad”, commented Serena, “and I reckon I had less than that, so it’s your turn to feed Jason and make coffee.”

Bernie planted a kiss on Serena’s nose and clambered out of bed, pulling a robe over her sleep shorts and T -shirt against the morning chill. Jason bounded energetically after her.

When she returned with the coffee ten minutes later, Serena was wide awake.

“I forgot it’s Sunday”, she said. “So we don’t have to get up yet.”

“But the suitcases are still in the hall”, protested Bernie, who hated seeing things unfinished.

“And they can stay there. Come back to bed. We deserve a rest after all that excitement.”

Bernie shed her robe and slid her legs back under the duvet. She took a sip of coffee.

“Oh that’s so nice. I can’t say I thought much of Nigerian coffee.”

“Good to be home, then?”

Bernie turned to look at Serena and gave her the full benefit of her radiant smile.

“Definitely. And from now on I want to be travelling a bit less in general and a bit more with you.”

“That sounds like a plan, Dr. Wolfe,” Serena smiled back. There was silence for a minute or two, each wondering whether to voice what was in their thoughts. Serena broke the silence first.

“I see Henrik couldn’t wait to bring Jason back”, she chuckled. A rather awkwardly grinning Hanssen had materialised at their door virtually as soon as they had arrived home the previous evening.

“Rox was sending him ETA messages from the taxi”, laughed Bernie. “He said Jason had ripped up his favourite slippers and scratched his leather sofa. “

“Well, I did warn him”, Serena said. “And he probably wanted time with Rox without furry distractions!”

Another silence. This time it was Bernie who broke it.

“Ange said she was finishing her project contract in mid-December. We need another staff member in Linguistics to share lecturing duties with Alex. I thought she could interview for it. I invited her to stay with us for a few days. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, I like Ange. In fact you might not be here now if not for her. And Amina Yakubu will be arriving for her course in January. We should have her round at some point too.”

“Mm, good idea.” Another silence. Then both began speaking at once-

“Serena,” 

“Bernie.”

“You first”, said Bernie.

“No, you go first,” Serena insisted. Bernie took a deep breath.

“Do you still want to get married?”

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Is that a yes, then?” asked Bernie, feigning anxiety.

“Put that coffee down and come here,” was the response.

**AND THEY ALL LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER.**

****


End file.
